The Christmas Drive
by Saintsavory
Summary: Traveling for the holidays is always a headache, but it's not so bad when you have good company.
1. Chapter 1

Nothing good ever comes from a call three minutes before the end of the day on December 23, yet I answered the fucking phone, which is why I'm rushing to Gate 17 in an airport packed with holiday travelers. I'm convinced that most passengers in the airport today travel once a year for Christmas. From not knowing how to proceed through the security check line to parking double-wide strollers in the entryway of the women's restroom, the atmosphere is chaotic.

"Excuse me…sorry." I weave my way through the throngs of people, headed to announce my presence to the gate agent since I'm incredibly late. "Sorry, excuse me." When I notice the plane is still at the gate, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"There's a line," a woman with long, black hair states as I try to breeze past her. "It starts back there."

"Oh." I twist my neck around to see seven or eight people in the queue behind her. "It's just that I'm late for the flight and I don't want them to give away my seat."

"So you're going to cut in line," she states rather than asks.

"All I need to do is give them my name." I tug my suitcase out of the aisle. "It'll take 30 seconds. Would you mind?"

"_Yes_, I mind." She gives me an audacious look. "Everyone in this line has something to ask the gate agent. Your situation doesn't trump mine or hers or his." She gestures to the other people in line.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine." 

Before I walk away, the dark haired woman speaks again. "Besides, the flight's delayed."

I glance at my watch. "It wasn't delayed ten minutes ago."

She points to the screen behind the podium that reflects the hour-long delay.

"Fuck," I mumble.

She takes a step forward as a man finishes up with the agent. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to chat with them about your seat."

"I don't have a problem with my seat assignment," I reply. "I just want them to know I made it so they don't give my seat away since _technically_ I wasn't at the gate ten minutes before scheduled takeoff."

"If they were trying to give your seat away, they would've called your name." She takes off her black blazer, folding it over her arm.

My eyes are drawn to her crisp white blouse and the way it dips low on her chest. "Since I just arrived, I don't know if they've called my name."

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

She blinks at me, a hint of amusement on her face. "Your name."

"Oh, it's Piper. Piper Chapman."

A man's suitcase bumps into my leg, causing me to lose my balance and reach for the woman's arm while dropping the handle on my rolling bag. "Sorry."

Now that we're inches apart, I can see her green eyes more clearly under black-rimmed glasses.

"Hello, Piper." She bends down to retrieve my fallen suitcase. "I'm Alex."

"Hi." I grab the handle, eyes still latched onto hers.

"They haven't called your name," she says, looking at the flight board. "I would've remembered a name like Piper."

"Maybe they called my last name?" I offer.

"They wouldn't do that."

I move slightly in front of her to get out of the aisle. "How do you know?"

"Because there might be two or three people with the same last name and they wouldn't want all of you to go up to the podium at the same time," she states through a chuckle. "Have you flown before?"

"Of course I have," I reply, shifting my weight. "I fly frequently."

She tilts her head. "Could've fooled me."

As if on cue, the flight attendant picks up the microphone. "Looking for passenger Chapman—Piper Chapman."

My eyebrows shoot up. "That's me!"

Alex looks exasperated.

"Maybe they're putting me in first class. If you'll excuse me." I gloat, stepping up to the desk. "Hi, you just called my name?"

"Ms. Chapman, do you have your ID?"

Of course I have my ID—how else would I have gotten through security? I don't say as much; instead, I present my driver's license to the agent.

"Thank you." She slides it back across the counter. "I see you purchased a G Class ticket."

"I'm not sure what that means." I crease my eyebrows and present my phone to her with the digital boarding pass. "But I have my boarding pass right here."

"G Class is our Saver Fare, the cheapest ticket you can buy online," she states, typing something into the computer. "Unfortunately, we're in an oversold situation, and we're going to have to use your seat for another passenger."

I lean forward. "I'm sorry, what?"

"If you read the fine print when you purchased the ticket, you would've seen that G Class tickets are subject to availability. We've already called for volunteers and haven't had any takers, so like I said, unfortunately, we're going to have to assign your seat to someone else."

"That's unacceptable." I glance back at Alex who seems amused. "I bought a ticket for this flight, and I intend to get on this plane."

"I do wish we could accommodate you, Ms. Chapman, but…"

"There's no _but_," I interject. "You _will_ accommodate me. I have a reservation for this flight."

"You'll get a full refund and a meal voucher," she continues.

Alex clears her throat and it appears that she's trying to hide a smirk.

"I apologize for the inconvenience." She hands what looks like a certificate to me. "This voucher is good at any of the restaurants in Terminal A."

"I don't want a fucking voucher. I want to get on this plane!"

"Ma'am, if you'll please move aside, I have other passengers to assist."

I stand planted to the spot. "I'm not going anywhere until I'm confident I'll be on this flight. I have a very important matter to take care of in Vermont."

"I'm sure all of the people in the boarding area have important matters to get to." She looks me in the eye. "If you don't step aside, Ms. Chapman, I'll have to call security."

With my mouth hanging open, I step aside, wondering what my next statement should be. The gate agent picks up the mic again. "Alex Vause if you're in the gate area, please approach the podium. Alex Vause."

Alex's mouth twists as she adjusts her glasses and stands in the spot I just occupied. "Hi, I'm Alex Vause." She presents her photo ID to the agent.

"We have a seat assignment for you, Ms. Vause. You'll be in 10C. Sorry for the inconvenience."

I didn't think my mouth could hang open any wider. "That's my seat," I announce.

"It _was_ your seat," the gate agent replies. "Again, I'm sorry about the situation. When you book your ticket in the future, please be sure to read the fine print."

"Read the fine print?" I repeat, eyebrows high. "You've given this woman my seat and you tell me to read the fucking fine print? It's two pages long in a font so small you need a magnifying glass to read it!"

"You should probably lower your voice," Alex chimes in.

I shoot daggers in her direction.

The gate agent turns her back, picks up the phone, and 30 seconds later, a man in a red jacket greets me at the desk. "Ms. Chapman, you're going to need to come with me."

I point to Alex. "She took my seat." Then I nod towards the agent. "This woman gave it to her!"

"Ma'am, if you don't come with me, there's a good chance you'll never fly the friendly skies again."

I jut my chin back. "You're _threatening_ me?"

The rotund black man stares at me expectantly.

I hold my hands up in surrender and turn back to the gate agent who is assisting someone else. "Can you put me on the next flight? That's all I ask. _Please_."

"This is the last flight to Burlington tonight," she states. "Ms. Chapman, that's the last question I'm going to answer. I really hope you have Merry Christmas."

I lick my lips before standing tall and saying in a loud, stern voice. "I will never, _ever_ fly this shitty airline again." Before walking away, I turn to Alex. "I hope you enjoy your stolen seat."

"I'm sorry about all this," she replies.

I walk away with the security guard and mumble, "Go fuck yourself."

He chuckles. "Bad blood?"

I shoot him a look.

"Sucks to get in a fight with your girlfriend in public," he explains. "Last time that happened to me, she dumped me on the spot. Wasn't pretty."

My face knots up. "My _girlfriend_?" I twist my head over my shoulder and watch Alex make a call on her cell phone. "I don't even know her."

He waves a hand in the air. "None of my business anyway."

I double my strides to keep up with him. "What kind of trouble am I in?"

"None, really. I just needed to extract you from a potentially volatile situation." He turns the corner.

I follow. "So I'm not going to be banned from the airport or anything?"

"Long as you stay away from that gate, you'll be fine," he replies. "I suggest talking to a customer service agent to figure out your next move."

I see a sign for the airline's customer service center. "Thank you."

He walks in the opposite direction and nods. "Stay out of trouble, Ms. Chapman."

The line for customer service snakes around a roped off area and flows into the narrow hallway. There must be 40 people in line ahead of me, so I try a different approach. I pull out my phone and head to baggage claim.

"I thought you'd be in the air by now," Larry answers on the first ring. "Everything alright?"

"No, not really." I huff. "They gave my seat to another person."

"What?"

I repeat myself. "I'm not going to get into specifics right now."

"You know how much this means to me."

"If I could be there, Larry, I would. It's out of my hands." I ride the escalator to the ground level. "I'm going to see if I can get on the first flight tomorrow."

"One fucking thing I asked you to do before we go our separate ways, and you couldn't even follow through," he says through a loud whisper as if he's in the presence of others. "Just…" he sighs. "Get here by tomorrow evening."

"I'll do my best."

I don't even want to be with Larry _at all_, but I promised I'd celebrate one last Christmas with his parents after his father received the diagnosis. I don't intend to break that promise.

My next call is to the airline's national number. After I give them a piece of my mind, I learn that due to the Nor'easter that's supposed to roll through tonight, the first flight out tomorrow has been pre-emptively cancelled. The agent asked if I wanted to be on a standby list for the 12:30 flight tomorrow, but he said it would be unlikely that I'll make it off the list due to the number of holiday travelers "with status." The only good thing that came out of the conversation was him rewarding me with a full refund plus an additional $200 voucher for my inconvenience.

I make my way to the rental car counter and choose the company with the shortest line. If I can't fly to Burlington, perhaps I can drive. It should come as no surprise to me that the shortest line is least 20 people deep, but I have no other options. I scroll through my phone to see if there are any rental car coupons, and upon finding none, I open the Google map app and plot my six-hour drive. If I can get on the road by eight o'clock tonight, I'll be there before anyone wakes up on Christmas Eve.

After about 15 minutes of the line barely moving, a rush of people flood through the automatic doors, and I wonder what caused such a crowd.

The guy in line behind me lowers his cell phone. "They've cancelled all the flights to Upstate New York, Montreal and Ottawa."

"What?"

"I knew this was going to happen." He shakes his head. "I'm just hoping they have enough cars on the lot so I can make it home tonight."

I quickly pull up the National Rental Car website to see if I can reserve a car online. "Shit."

"Let me guess: they're not taking reservations?" the John Candy look alike asks. "I could've saved you the trouble."

I exhale a long, irritated breath. This day has quickly deteriorated.

"Hi."

And it just got worse, though damn if she's not striking.

"I thought by now you'd be reclining in seat 10C."

Alex fiddles with her eyeglasses. "They cancelled our flight."

"You mean _your_ flight." I fold my arms, still unwilling to let it go.

"Ours, yours, theirs, whatever." She shrugs. "I'm getting a car."

"The line's back there." I point to the back of the room. "You're the one who's so fond of lines, right?"

Her lips tug upwards, and I wonder what she finds so amusing. "I don't have to stand in line, actually." She wiggles her phone. "I'm an Emerald Club member. I reserved a car two days ago when I saw the weather report."

I tilt my head and listen to her brag about her foresight. To be fair, she's not really bragging, but that's what it feels like as everything seems to fall into place for Alex.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," she says. "But not much the airlines can do about weather."

I shake my head and stare at the throngs of people hoping to secure a rental car. No one in this god forsaken airport looks like they're in the Christmas spirit. One man is yelling at the Enterprise Rental Car clerk, countless babies are crying and the heat in the relatively small space is making people shed their coats and roll up their sleeves.

"You were headed to Burlington, right?"

"Technically, I'm going to Shelburne," I reply, eyes focused on anything but the woman next to me.

"I'm headed to St. George." She types something into her phone. "Looks like it's a 15-minute drive from where you're going."

I refrain from rolling my eyes at her discovery.

"Tell you what." She adjusts her purse strap, which is slung across her body, framing her breasts and pulling her blouse tightly against them. "Since you claim I _stole_ your seat, I'll give you a ride to Vermont."

"Really?" My eyebrows shoot up. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah." She shrugs. "Why not?"

"You're one lucky woman," the man behind me comments.

"Maybe I am," I mumble, ducking under the black rope and walk with Alex to the rental car lot.

"You don't mind splitting the driving?" she asks, flashing the rental car confirmation to a uniformed woman in the hut.

"I don't mind."

"We only have four cars left," the clerk says. "Pick any one in spaces six through nine. Keys are in the ignition."

I wheel my suitcase behind me. "I'll pay for gas."

She approaches a silver, compact SUV. "This one has all-wheel drive." She pops the hatchback. "Have you driven in snow?"

"I've driven short distances, yeah, but not on the highway or in terrible conditions."

Alex lifts her suitcase into the SUV and places mine next to it. "If you want to navigate through the city, I'll take over when we get to the areas where there might be some snow on the road." She shuts the hatchback. "If you have a phone charger, pull it out." She climbs into the passenger seat. "You might want to grab some snacks, too. I want to power through this drive as fast as we can."

"I'm not comfortable speeding," I comment.

"You don't have to speed." She closes the door. "I'm just saying I don't want to make a million stops."

I adjust the mirrors before starting the car. "I have a small bladder."

I can see her rolling her eyes out of the corner of mine. "Then control your water intake."

I click my seatbelt and pull out of the parking spot. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"It's my friend's birthday," she replies. "I was supposed to be in Vermont yesterday, but I couldn't get out of a meeting."

If I'm going to be in the car with Alex for the next six hours, I might as well ask questions. "Where do you work?"

She hands me a document to give to the man at the gate to exit the airport. "I open restaurants."

"You're a chef?"

"No." She points towards the sign for the freeway. "I worked on the line in a few restaurants, but I made the switch to a more corporate role a few years ago."

I glance at her. "What exactly do you do?"

"My company works with restaurant owners and chefs to promote their opening," she states. "It's a lot of logistics."

I turn onto the highway.

"I mostly manage each restaurant's social media campaign leading up to the grand opening," Alex continues. "I work with the chef and a photographer on taking pictures of the food that would make anyone salivate; partner with foodie apps like Belly and Perka; work with a web master to design the restaurant's website…the list goes on."

"We've got a long drive ahead of us," I reply. "Feel free to elaborate."

She smiles, and it's the first time I've witnessed an actual toothy smile. It lights up her otherwise serious face. Alex fills me in on her job for the first half hour, and as we make our way out of the city, she asks about me.

"It's nice to get away from it all for a few days." She leans her head against the headrest and swivels in my direction. What about you—why are you in a rush to get to Vermont?"

"I'm going to my ex-boyfriend's parents' cabin." I keep my eyes trained on the road.

"I'm sorry, you're in a rush to spend time with your_ ex_?"

I nod. "We broke up after Thanksgiving, but I promised I'd spend Christmas with his family."

I consider leaving it at that, but Alex presses on. "Are you going to make me dig for information?"

"About what?"

She shakes her head and glances out the window. So much for me trying to leave well enough alone.

"We were together for two years," I begin. "Engaged, actually."

That gets her attention.

"After the first year, I realized we weren't compatible, but I stayed with him anyway." I pause, remembering the lengths I went through to try to make things work. "We went to Cancun about six months ago, and it was magical. Larry proposed to me on the beach."

"_Larry_?"

I glance at her. "Yes, Larry."

She makes a face but remains quiet.

I continue. "Everything felt new in Cancun—like it was a fresh start, and I was convinced that trip was what our relationship needed to get us back on track."

"Until it wasn't?"

"We were fine for another month or two, but he got back into his old habits, and I knew this would be a pattern with us—we'd go on a trip, soak up the change of scenery, and not deal with everyday life."

She takes a sip of water. "It took you another four months to break up with him?"

"Breaking up isn't easy," I reply. "I must've tried 20 times, but I chickened out for one reason or another until the day after Thanksgiving."

"What was the tipping point?"

"I don't know." I shake my head. "It wasn't like we had a terrible Thanksgiving or anything. I'd just come inside after a long run, saw him on the sofa eating popcorn and watching football, and something clicked." I feel a pang in my chest.

"So, why are you going to Vermont to be with him?"

"Two days after we broke up, his father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer." I look at her, then back at the road, which is starting to get a little slippery. "This will likely be his last Christmas, and Larry didn't want to disappoint him with the fact that our engagement is off."

"I'm sorry." She wraps her fingers around my wrist.

"Me, too." I hold my tears in check. "He's upset that I didn't take the earlier flight into Burlington."

"Why didn't you?"

"I had a work thing."

"Sounds familiar." She adjusts in the seat, tucking one leg under her and turning slightly towards me. "So, Piper Chapman, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a section editor for _Newsweek_."

"Sounds interesting."

"At times it's fun, but it's also demanding and unpredictable," I reply. "The reason I was late getting to the airport was because my team had to rewrite a story on the Venezuelan coup."

"I guess when news happens, you have to be able to pivot on a dime."

"Exactly." I glance at the digital clock, realizing we'd been driving for nearly three hours. The snow has also started coming down in bigger chunks. "I know you want to power through, but I really have to use the restroom."

She taps on her phone. "Looks like there's an exit in about five miles with some gas stations and restaurants. We can stop there."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi, there," an older woman with her hair tied in a bun and donning a blue checkered apron greets us from behind the counter. "Welcome to Ray's. As you can see, no one else is brave enough to venture out tonight, so pick any seat you like."

Alex gestures to the second booth, and I slide onto the long, red bench and take in the décor. Ray's is an old-fashioned soda shop, complete with a jukebox (which is currently playing an Elvis Christmas song), a long, Formica counter top dotted with a variety of pies, and an ice cream shake machine that looks like it came with the place back in the 50s. There's a fake Christmas tree in the right corner decorated with kitchen utensils and silver garland.

Then it hits me. "Did she say _brave enough to venture out_?"

Alex removes her scarf. "Is the storm approaching?"

"Has your head been buried in the sand? Or should I say in the snow?" She hands each of us a menu. "It's moving right up I-91 as we speak, dumping four to six inches an hour."

My eyes bolt open. "Maybe we should head back."

"Back to New York?" Alex chuckles. "We'd drive right into it."

The waitress, whose nametag predictably reads, _Flo_, points to the television mounted in the far corner. "Sound doesn't work on this old TV set but see for yourself."

Sure enough, the graphic on the weather report shows a low-pressure system rolling up the eastern seaboard, and the ticker on the bottom of the screen shows road closures and snowfall amounts in nearby towns.

"I'm going to use the bathroom, and then I think we should leave." I stand and direct my attention to Flo. "Can I get a grilled ham and cheese to go please?"

Alex reaches for my arm. "We're not going to out-run this thing."

"At least we can stay ahead of it," I try. "We only have 180 miles to go."

Flo makes a _humph_. "Honey, unless you're in a military helicopter, there's no way you're going to drive faster than this storm. Might as well enjoy some food in the warmth of the diner."

I turn back to Alex.

"She's right. Let's just get something to eat and watch the weather report," she states. "Sometimes these storms slow down when they get on land."

I'm hesitant to follow Alex's plan, but I know I'm at her mercy. After all, it's _her_ rental car—I can't very well tell her what to do. I text Larry from the bathroom, telling him that I decided to drive to Vermont and asking if he's following the storm.

"You still want that grilled ham and cheese?" Alex asks, peeking over her menu when I return. "There are a few more interesting, possibly tastier items on the menu."

I hang my coat on the rack next to the door, and then plop down across from her. "I love grilled ham and cheese."

"Suit yourself." She lowers the menu as Flo walks back over. "I'll have the turkey special and a cup of coffee."

"I'm sticking with the grilled ham and cheese and a Diet Coke."

"Coming right up."

I eye the TV again. "Are you sure you don't want to take the food to go?"

Alex sets her cell phone on the table. "Please don't overreact when I tell you this."

"Why would I overreact?"

She flicks a bag of sugar with her index finger as Flo slides a mug of coffee across the table. "I witnessed your little outburst at the airport, and I'm going to guess when things don't go your way, you tend to…_overreact_."

I wordlessly blink at her, keeping my emotions in check. The last thing I want to do is prove she's right. "What happened at the airport was enough to send anyone into an angry fit."

Her lips turn down and she bops her head left to right. "Maybe not _that_ much of a fit."

I calmly place my palms face down on the table. "I promise not to overreact, Alex. What is it you need to tell me?"

She inhales. "We might have to stay here overnight."

"Oh?" My eyebrows spike, but I try to control the outburst that surely would've followed if she hadn't called out my previous overreaction. "Why is that?"

She shows me her phone. "This is the edge of the storm, and this is where we are."

"Which is why if we leave now—" I try.

"Piper," she holds up one hand. "We both want to get to Vermont as quickly as possible, but with the storm headed directly towards us, it's not safe to drive right now. Look out there."

The wind has picked up in the last ten minutes, and the snow is blowing almost sideways.

"Larry is going to kill me." I shake my head. "I can't do this to him."

"He's not even your boyfriend!" she replies, and then dials back her emotion. "I get that you want to be there with his dad and all, but I'm sure they'd rather you arrive late than not at all."

"So, what?" I shove my long sleeve past my elbow. "We sleep in the diner? In the car?"

"Flo said there's a motel up the road." Alex leans back. "She's calling to see if there's any vacancy."

I spread my fingers wide on the faux wooden table and take a deep breath. "I don't want to spend the night in some roadside motel."

"Fine." She shrugs, clearly frustrated. "You can sleep in the car."

"We're two intelligent, resourceful women," I say. "There has to be an alternative."

Flo arrives with our meals. "There's a room at the motel. I asked Hank to hold it for you."

"We need two rooms," Alex replies.

"Oh, I just assumed…"

"It's fine," she dismisses Flo's statement. "Do they have two?"

"Afraid not." She refills Alex's coffee. "If you would've driven through about an hour earlier, you'd probably have some luck, but with the storm approaching, even the truck drivers are stopping for the night."

Flo walks away and I lean forward. "You're suggesting that we stay at a motel where truck drivers could break into our room?"

"They're not going to break into our room," she says through a light laugh. "Where'd you come up with that?"

"I watch _Dateline_. I know what happens at seedy motels." I push my plate out of the way, suddenly losing my appetite. "If it isn't the scary truck drivers who are looking for their next victim, it's bed bugs that'll crawl into our luggage. Do you know the lengths you have to go through to get rid of bed bugs?"

"I need you to take a deep breath, Piper." She places a hand over mine and the levity that was once apparent on her countenance has disappeared. "Truck drivers are normal, hard working human beings like you and me. They want to get back on the road just as much as we do."

"How do you know that?"

I sense she's losing her patience. "Because my mom dated a bunch of them."

I don't give in. "There are stories, Alex, _real_ stories about women getting raped at motels…"

She slams her hand on the table. "You need to check your fucking privilege!"

I suck my lips in and look away. I hear her fork scrape the bottom of the plate, so I silently watch her take a few bites of roasted turkey and mashed potatoes.

"What about the bed—?" before I can get the word _bugs_ out of my mouth, she interrupts.

"Please don't ask about the bed bugs. I haven't had them, I hope never to get them, and I'm just going to hold out hope that this place isn't infested."

"_Infested_?" I repeat, folding my arms. "Now you've made it worse."

She sets her fork down and presses her fingers into her temples. "I'm going to eat this delicious meal, and then head to the motel where I'm hoping to get at least a few hours of decent sleep. If you want to join me, great. If not, you're more than welcome to hang back here with Flo." She looks up at me. "For now, I need you to _shut the fuck up_ about truck drivers and bed bugs."

_Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas_ blares through the speakers at the most inopportune time.

I eat half my sandwich in silence and turn to see why Alex's eyes are glued to the television a couple of times. Of course, it's all about the weather and predictions as to how much snow the region will see overnight.

She wipes her mouth with a napkin. "You only ate half your sandwich."

"Yours looks better than mine," I reply sheepishly, lifting the top piece of bread on my sandwich. "The cheese isn't fully melted."

She smirks as she pushes her plate towards me. "I told you there were tastier things on the menu."

I dive into the mashed potatoes. "God, these are good."

"So good."

I eat a couple more bites with turkey and gravy, savoring the taste of my favorite holiday.

Flo approaches with her pad in hand. "Can I get you two anything else?"

"I think we're good," Alex replies.

She rips the check out of her book and places it on the table. "I'll get a Styrofoam cup so you can take that coffee with you."

"Maybe we should get a slice of pie," I say. "They all look so good."

"Which one's the freshest?" Alex asks.

"I made the blueberry one about an hour ago."

"We'll take a slice to go, then," Alex adds.

I pick up the check. "Let me get this."

"You don't have to." She reaches for it, and our fingers touch.

"I insist." I wrap my hand around her wrist and feel her pulse quicken. "It's the least I can do."

She gives me a small smile.

* * *

Author's Note: I realize this was a super short chapter, but it was either this or nothing at all today. I will post chapter 3 tomorrow. Thanks so much for the feedback so far! It's hard to believe you're digging a Christmas story in the summer!


	3. Chapter 3

The Midnight Motel is exactly what one might picture when they conjure up an image of a roadside inn. There's a neon sign with an arrow below that blinks every few seconds and the word _vacancy_ is spelled out on the reader board, missing the letter 'n.' There are three 18-wheelers off to the side of the parking lot and several oversized vehicles in front of the motel. If these big rigs are calling it a night, it's probably for the best that we are as well.

Alex unbuckles her seatbelt. "Do you want to stay in the car while I get us checked in?"

The last thing I want is to be alone in the car in a shady motel parking lot. "I'll come with you."

The lobby is sparse and smells like someone has tried to cover up the scent of mildew with Pine Sol. I wouldn't sit on the stained sofa if someone paid me.

"Let me guess," a man behind the counter says with a toothpick dangling out of his mouth. "You're the gals Flo called me about."

"I assume so." Alex pulls out a credit card. "I understand you have one room left?"

"That's right. It'll be $89 a night plus tax. Ya'll staying for a week?"

My head shoots back.

"I'm just messin' with ya!" he laughs. "Matter of fact, the longest anyone's stayed at the motel was three nights in a row. As I recall, that was around this time last year when a similar storm rolled through." He slides a piece of paper across the counter and places a pen on top of it.

Alex reviews the form, and then signs it.

"Yeah, they say this one should be all but done by about three or four in the morning." He passes the credit card through a black apparatus, and then hands it back to her. "I'm going to give you a few candles if the power goes out. Here's some matches, too. I gave all the flashlights out already so these will have to do."

I grab the four white, generic candles and Alex takes the tall one with Jesus on the side of the jar.

"Your room is three doors down to the right." He hands Alex a key dangling from a blue, plastic keychain. "If you need anything, I'll be here until morning. You can come on down to the office or hit zero on the telephone."

"Thank you."

I nod, remaining silent as I follow her outside.

"He was nice enough," Alex comments.

"Nice but dirty."

She gives me a look. "Let's put the candles in the room, and then get our bags." Alex shoves the key in the door and opens it to find one bed with a white and brown quilt in the center of the room and a string of bulky Christmas lights strung in an inverted V on the wood-paneled wall behind the bed. There's a painting of a mountain range on the opposite wall, and I'm sure I've seen that exact portrait at a Goodwill store for $2.50. The brown dresser matches the brown end tables and brown, shag carpeting. It smells similar to the lobby, but a little less moldy.

"It's kind of charming," Alex says, setting the slender candle on the table.

I try to remain positive. "The Christmas lights are a nice touch."

She sticks her hands on her hips and surveys the room. "I hope you don't mind sharing a bed."

"Looks like we don't have a choice."

She shrugs. "It sure as hell beats sleeping in a freezing car."

"You're not an ax murderer or anything, right?"

She lets out a soft laugh. "That's probably something you should've asked before getting in the car with me."

As we transport our bags to the room and I triple lock the door, the wind and snow picks up considerably.

Alex turns on the television as I pull the comforter off the bed, and then yank the sheets back.

She spins around. "What are you doing?"

I examine the beige linens. "Looking for bed bugs."

She stares at me with crossed arms. "Find any?"

"Not yet." I turn the flashlight on my phone and examine the bed more closely. Once I'm satisfied, I go into the bathroom and look closely at the towels.

"Is the coast clear?"

I know she's mocking me. "You might think I'm overreacting, but you can't be too careful when it comes to bed bugs. My cousin got them once and it took a week to disinfect her clothes and luggage."

Alex rests her hands on my shoulders and in fake sincerity says, "Thank you _so much_ for caring about our health and safety."

"You're welcome."

She returns her attention to the TV.

"Alex?" I glance between the bedroom and vanity area. "I think we're missing a door."

"Looks that way." She walks to the sink, which is on the exterior of the small bathroom. "Hope you're not super modest."

"I'd prefer some privacy when I'm in the bathroom, but I guess that's not an option."

She pulls a towel off the rack and inspects it. "I'm guessing this thin fabric that loosely passes as a towel won't fully wrap around my body."

"I doubt it would wrap around a child's body."

She holds it up to the dim, flickering light. "It's almost transparent."

I tilt my head. "So really, there's zero privacy."

She tosses it back onto the rack with a smile and moves into the bedroom as the weatherman gives an update on the snowfall totals.

"You'll see the center of the low pressure system here," he points to a radar map. "This system is similar to a hurricane. The wind whips around in a counter-clockwise direction like this, and if you're in the southeastern quadrant of the storm, that's where you'll see the most damaging winds and the greatest accumulation of snow. Folks this isn't something you want to drive in if you're traveling on I-89 or I-91."

"Should we light the candles just in case the power goes out?"

She tosses the matchbox to me. "Sure."

I light all the candles, including the Jesus one, and continue listening to the weather report, which sounds dire. They're predicting blizzard like conditions overnight and into the early morning hours. The small towns along the interstate are expected to get between a foot and a foot and a half of accumulated snow by sunrise.

"I'm going to change." I grab my pajamas and enter the tiny, doorless bathroom.

I hear a phone ring. "Is that yours or mine?"

"Mine." I hear Alex say hello to the caller. "I couldn't make this shit up if I tried," she says into the receiver with a sigh. "Did you read all my texts?"

"Yeah, we read them." I can hear the other person on the line, but it's a little muddled. "Only Alex Fucking Vause could pick up a woman at the airport and convince her to drive across state lines."

My interest is piqued.

"It's not like that," Alex responds. "I'll fill you in when I see you tomorrow."

"Is she at least cute?"

I can see Alex's reflection in the mirror—she's grinning and quite possibly blushing. "I'll fill you in tomorrow," she repeats.

I quickly turn my back to the bedroom and button my flannel pajama top. "Was that your friend calling to check on you?"

"Yeah," she responds. "Sucks that I'm not there."

I sit on the lid of the toilet and pull on some fuzzy socks. "Is today her actual birthday?"

"Tomorrow."

I walk back into the bedroom, and Alex is messing with the dial on the heater. "Mind if I turn this thing higher?"

I shake my head.

She opens the curtains a bit and peeks outside. "It's starting to really come down now."

I join her on the other side of the room and feel a draft coming through the thin windowpane. "It is."

She turns to me. "Aren't you glad we're not driving in this?"

I nod.

"It would be one thing if it was daylight," she says, untucking her blouse. "But I don't know these roads well enough to drive in near blizzard conditions at night."

"As much as I hate to admit it, we did the right thing."

She stares at me for a moment, eyeing me up and down. "Cute pajamas."

I glance down at my snowman pjs. "Larry gave these to me last Christmas."

She slides past me. "Speaking of Larry, have you talked to him?"

I pick up my phone, noticing no missed calls. "I texted him at the diner, but I haven't heard back."

"Maybe you should give him a call." She grabs a few items from her suitcase. "I'm going to change."

She's right, I need to call him. Maybe there's some problem with my texts going through. I hit the green button on my phone, and he answers on the second ring.

"Did you get my texts?"

"Yes."

"Did you want to text me back?"

"We were in the middle of dinner," he explains. "And then I just…forgot."

"You forgot that your girlfriend was driving in a snowstorm just to be with you and your sick father for Christmas?" I try to swallow the irritation in my tone.

"Don't you mean _ex_-girlfriend?" he asks.

I remain silent for a moment.

"Are you driving by yourself?"

"There were no rental cars left at the airport, so the woman who took my seat on the flight offered to give me a ride since we were both headed to Burlington."

"If the woman took your seat, why is she driving with you?"

"The flight was cancelled," I reply, realizing this might be difficult to explain. "Alex had reserved a car in advance of the storm, and I'm glad she did because otherwise, I—"

"Spare me the story behind whatever ludicrous situation you've gotten yourself into," Larry begins. "And if you can't get here by tomorrow night, don't come at all. It's not worth it."

"I'm doing this for _you_!" I blink back tears and taste bitterness in my mouth. "I'm traveling with a total fucking stranger in a blizzard for _you_, Larry, so if I can't get there on your timeline, I'm _fucking sorry_!"

I'm so blinded by emotion that I don't realize Alex is standing next to me with a hand on my back.

"Call me from the road tomorrow." With that, he hangs up.

I stare at the phone as my chest heaves in and out. "I can't believe he's accusing me of not being there."

"I'm sure he doesn't realize what you've been through today." She sits next to me on the bed, brushing my hair off my shoulder. "He's angry at the situation, not at you."

"You're _defending_ him?" I can feel tears hanging in my eyelids. If I blink, they'll cascade down my cheeks.

Alex lifts her shoulders. "I'm just saying he probably can't grasp the traveling shit show you've experienced today."

"I don't even want to be with him." I sniff. "He guilted me into this trip…probably so he could try getting back together." I wipe my eyes with the hem of my pajama sleeve. "Right now, the thought of being in the same house with Larry makes my skin crawl."

"You're not in the same house with him." She rubs small circles on the back of my hand. "And you never have to be in the same house with him." She places her other hand on my thigh. "I can drive you straight to the Burlington airport tomorrow and you can take the next flight home if that's what you want."

I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. "I'm sorry about all this."

"Don't worry about it." She walks to the vanity area and grabs the box of tissue. "I've seen much worse meltdowns than this."

I blow my nose on the tissue that feels more like sandpaper. "Really?"

"Sure. Lots of 10-year-olds have reactions like that," she jokes.

I let out a wet laugh.

She digs in her bag and pulls out two mini-bottles. "I knew I had these in here."

I lift my brows. "Is that tequila?"

"It is." She gets two plastic cups from the bathroom. "I got them on my last flight and forgot to take them out. I'm surprised I got through security at the airport."

"The TSA scanners probably figured they were less than three ounces." I take one of the proffered bottles and dump the liquid into the cup.

"To meeting new people in unexpected places." She taps her cup against mine.

"Cheers."

"And to this snowstorm ending in the very near future."

I take a sip of the stringent alcohol, and it burns all the way down. I cover my mouth with my arm and wince at the burning sensation. "I couldn't tell you the last time I had straight tequila."

"I could." She turns the volume down on the television and crawls into bed, crossing her legs at the ankles.

My attention was so focused on my conversation with Larry that I hadn't realized that Alex had changed into plaid pajamas. She looks warm and cozy. I sit on the opposite side of the bed with my back against the headboard, cup in hand.

"Are you going to fill me in?"

"It was this past August," she begins with a smile, looking to the ceiling as if recalling the memory. "I was dating this _much_ younger woman, and we went to her place for a nightcap after dinner. She had literally the smallest apartment I've ever seen, and believe me, I've seen some small fucking apartments."

I take another sip of tequila, hoping to hide the blush that I fear is spreading across my cheeks when she announces that she was _dating a woman_. I had no way of confirming that Alex is gay, but it's fair to say I had my suspicions. That shouldn't excite me the way it does.

"If someone invites you over for a nightcap, you expect a choice of booze, right?" She takes a sip. "If not a _choice_, then definitely some kind of after dinner drink like sherry, brandy or even Bailey's."

"Or she just wanted to have sex with you and a nightcap was an excuse to get you into her bed," I comment.

"Sex was a given," she replies. "It's not like that would've been our first time."

I feel something stir in my body at hearing the way she says the word, _sex_.

"Anyway this girl, Laurie, had one Michelob Ultra in the fridge and a half-bottle of Jose Cuervo."

"That's it?" I don't let my body win this battle by asking more about the sex, though I desperately want to hear more.

She laughs. "Don't get me wrong—there are a few tequilas like Casa Noble—that could work as an after dinner drink, but _Jose fucking Cuervo_?"

"What did you do?"

"I drank it." She continues laughing. "I haven't shot tequila in _years_—I tend to sip the good stuff, but Laurie threw that glass back twice before I'd taken three sips."

"It probably would've gone down a lot smoother if you'd shot it," I offer.

"True." She grins and glances my way. "Needless to say, Laurie turned out to be a little too immature, and that was our last date."

I decide to ask a more personal question. "Was she your last girlfriend?"

"She wasn't my girlfriend," Alex replies, nudging her glasses. "But she's the last woman I went out with more than three times."

My bold streak continues. "Did you date the woman whose birthday you're going to in Vermont?"

"Nicky? God, no. She's my best friend." She takes another sip of tequila. "But I _did_ date one of the other women at the cabin." She picks at the lint on the comforter. "It was a long time ago; we haven't hooked up in years."

Maybe it's the tequila talking. "Does she still have feelings for you?"

"I don't know." Alex averts her eyes. "She's the jealous type, so even though there's nothing going on between us, I don't bring other women around if I know Sylvie's going to be there."

"Larry is a lot of things, but he was never jealous."

Her head snaps up. "Not jealous of anyone?"

"I mean, maybe he was a little jealous when I talked about one of my co-workers too much," I say.

"Were you attracted to him?"

I take the final sip of alcohol. "_Her_."

Alex's lips twitch and an eyebrow almost imperceptibly arches.

"She had this larger-than-life personality and was a brilliant writer," I continue. "It didn't hurt that she had a British accent."

She grins. "Accents get me every time."

"Nothing ever happened between us. She was only in New York for three months and then moved back to Wales."

"Did she know you were attracted to her?"

I shake my head. "I didn't even realize the attraction until Larry brought it up. I thought she was fun to hang out with but being with her…_romantically_…never crossed my mind until she was gone. Besides, I was in a relationship. I wouldn't have cheated on Larry."

Alex hasn't moved; she seems hyper-focused on our conversation. "Had you ever been with a woman?"

"In college." I nod. "Two one night stands."

"I don't know how you went back to men after being with a woman," she comments.

"Sex is just sex." I shrug. "I'm more interested in the bond between two people."

"Then you've never had great sex." She tosses the remainder of the alcohol back. "I wish I had more tequila."

"Or that the motel had a mini-bar," I reply.

"Either would be nice." She flings her legs off the side of the bed and walks over to the window. I have a feeling she's suddenly uncomfortable next to me. I don't examine the reason too closely.

I sit up more fully. "What's it like out there?"

"It's a white-out." She opens the curtain wide enough for me to see thick chunks of snow blowing sideways. "At least we still have power."

"That reminds me." I get out of bed and search for my charging cord. "We should plug our phones in just in case."

"I'm going to set an alarm for 5 a.m." She places her phone on the table. "Hopefully we can get out of here before six."

"That would be good." I pad into the bathroom and pull out my toothbrush.

Alex stretches and yawns. "I'm exhausted."

"Me, too."

With my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, I reach into my purse. "Mind if we listen to some Christmas music as we go to sleep?"

"As long as it's the soft kind."

"No _Metallica_ Christmas tonight?" I ask around a mouthful of toothpaste.

She squeezes a dab of Colgate onto her brush. "I don't think _Metallica_ made a Christmas album."

"I have an instrumental Christmas playlist." I rinse my mouth and head back to the bedroom. "I tend to sleep all over the place, so if I touch you, just shove me, and I'll roll onto my side."

"It's ok if you touch me." She rinses her mouth, so I can't see her expression. "After all, it _is_ a small bed."


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar sound. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am and to identify the sound as the howling wind. I look down and see Alex's arm dangling over my hip and can feel her ankle crisscrossing mine. I try to move, but she snuggles closer and lets out a contented sigh, her warm breath tickling the back of my neck. Although this feels oddly natural, I worry that if she wakes up, she'll probably wonder how we found ourselves in this position. I carefully wiggle out of her grasp and take a few steps towards the window. The warmth that had surrounded me is lost as I open the curtain and feel the cold draft seeping in.

Although the snow has tapered off, there must be at least a foot on the ground. A gust of wind blows it off the hood of our car, and I shiver at how cold it looks. I touch the window to be sure, and it feels like an ice cube. I check the door again, irrationally ensuring it's still locked, and then glance at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock: half past two. I sit in the hard, wooden chair, pull my legs up and circle them with my arms and watch Alex sleep. Her breathing is steady and her dark hair covers half her face. It's the first time I've seen her without glasses; I only wish I could see the color of her eyes again.

I debate whether I should get back in bed with her or just stay awake until sunlight.

There's something about her that makes me feel safe. I'm not sure if I _ever_ would've stayed in a motel with a stranger, but Alex hasn't felt like a stranger this whole time. Even at the airport, there was something familiar—_reassuring_ about her. Maybe it's her confidence or her easy demeanor. She's logical and doesn't overreact.

And she's gay.

I inhale deeply as I ponder that fact. I'm sharing not just a room but a _bed_ with a lesbian—a beautiful, smart, headstrong lesbian who's moving heaven and earth to be at her friend's birthday celebration. A smile touches my lips.

I crawl into bed, lying on my back and turning my neck on the pillow to stare a little longer. I brush her hair out of her face, and then gently lift her arm over my hip like it was before. The weight of it feels good—_right_. I roll onto my side, scooting back until we're once again spooning, and I close my eyes, balancing my breath. Minutes later, I'm fast asleep.

* * *

The next time I wake up, it's to the sound of voices in the distance, and it takes me a moment to place where I am. I reach behind me, but the bed is empty. "Alex?"

The spot where she was sleeping is cold—she's been gone for some time. I sit up and look at the clock: 5:19 a.m. It's still dark outside. Surely, she didn't leave.

"Alex?" I call again, slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

She's not there, but her bag is still on the luggage stand against the wall. I breathe a sigh of relief—at least she didn't leave me stranded at the motel. I walk over to the window and open the curtains just a smidge and see Alex talking to two guys next to a Mack truck. Her arms are crossed as she listens to the man in the baseball cap. She's wearing jeans and a green hoodie, glasses back on. She looks good in casual clothes, but she doesn't seem relaxed. Her shoulders are tight and her face looks solemn.

I step away from the window and hunt for a sweatshirt in my bag. I pull it over my pajama top, and then turn on the television. The weather reporter gives an update on snowfall and explains that another storm is hot on the heels of the one that rolled through last night.

Alex opens the door, letting in a cold breeze. "Did I wake you?"

"No." I shake my head. "What were you doing out there?"

"Talking to the truckers," she replies. "The parking lot has 14 inches of snow, but a plow is on its way within the hour. They're working on the interstate, but they've only gotten about five miles cleared in the northbound direction."

I turn to her. "When are they expecting the rest to get plowed?"

She lifts her shoulders. "They're working as fast as they can."

"Are there side roads we could take?"

She grabs a few things out of her suitcase. "They won't be plowed before they do the freeways."

"What do we do?"

"For now, we wait." She looks at me. "Hopefully by the time we finish showering, we can drive to the diner for breakfast."

I pick up my phone, but there are no messages.

"I'll go first." She steps into the bathroom. "At least there's a shower curtain."

That causes me to smile, but I'm uneasy about the weather conditions and the stressful, potentially long drive ahead. I watch the news report while Alex is bathing, and text Larry, giving him an update on our status. He doesn't reply.

Alex gets out of the shower wrapped in a sheer towel that reveals about three inches of her right side. My eyes are drawn to the arc of her breast and the curve of her hip. Her hair is dripping wet, so she uses a hand towel to soak up the moisture. She steps into red underwear and then turns her back as she latches a matching bra. I can't take my eyes off her, and I wonder if she has trouble seeing me without her glasses. She steps into the vanity area in nothing but her underwear, and I quickly avert my eyes.

I need to make conversation to divert my attention from her stunning body. "What happens if the interstate only gets plowed 20 or 30 miles?"

"Then we drive that distance and wait it out." She rubs moisturizer on her face, and then puts her glasses back on.

"For how long?"

"I have as much information as you do." She spins around, giving me a full frontal view. "So if we're going to make it the rest of the way, I need you to put a positive spin on the situation and stop asking questions I can't answer."

"I'm not sure how to put a positive spin on the situation when there's another storm heading this way," I reply, trying to keep my eyes on her face rather than her breasts.

"Think of it as a road trip." She shrugs. "We're on a Christmas adventure with a few obstacles along the way. Don't they make Hallmark movies about this kind of thing?"

"Yes, but there's always romance involved."

She turns back around, and now I'm left with a view of her perfect ass. "Maybe you'll meet some handsome townie when we stop for lunch."

I walk towards her with a grin. "Keep talking."

"And he tells you how beautiful you are." She lifts a strand of my hair. "And that he _just can't take his eyes off you_."

It's Alex's eyes on mine that make my breath hitch.

"And even though you can be petulant and annoying as fuck, he finds those traits endearing," she finishes in a low voice, hand dropping to my shoulder.

I swallow hard, and she pulls away. I'm left rooted to the spot, wondering if I should read into her words.

She smirks. "It could happen."

I snap out of my reverie but am unable to speak as I head into the bathroom, stepping into the shower and closing the curtain before getting undressed. I let the warm water hit my face, and as soon as I close my eyes, I picture Alex in her red underwear. A smile tugs at my lips. Would it be so terrible if we were stranded another night?

* * *

After a double stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, a side of bacon and two cups of coffee, Alex and I hit the road. The sun is shining brightly, making sunglasses essential as the reflection of the high mounds of snow is blinding.

She turns on the radio until finding the traffic report, and we learn that 20 miles have been plowed on I-91. We also learn that the second storm should hit eastern Massachusetts and the Vermont border by nightfall. She switches the station to Christmas music.

"That's better," I say.

"We're just going to drive until we can't go any further."

I nod.

"In the meantime, regale me with stories from the past." She glances at me. "The juicier the better."

"You're going to have to ask a question to see just how juicy you're talking about here."

"Ok." She tosses her hair back as she maneuvers the car onto the freeway. "First time you had sex."

I contemplate her question, wondering how far this could go. I don't have to take the bait—I could decline and switch the subject to work or friends or New Year's resolutions.

"I was 18, and it was with a boy named Chandler," I reply, trying to tamp down the exhilarating feeling inside me. "We'd dated for six months, and he'd gone down on me once before."

She lifts her eyebrows.

"But I didn't return the favor," I continue. "We were at a house party, I was pretty tipsy, and one thing led to another."

"You did it in someone else's bed?"

"Yeah," I respond with a chuckle. "Now that I think about it, that's pretty gross."

"If you didn't wash the sheets afterwards, yeah, it is." She laughs.

"I remember it hurting. It wasn't like the movies."

Alex nods. "I wouldn't imagine it feeling great."

I turn to her. "Have you ever had sex with a man?"

"No."

It's my turn to raise my brows. "I don't think I've ever met a woman who hasn't slept with a man."

She raises her hand. "Now you have."

I decide to turn the tables. "When was the first time you had sex?"

_O, Come All Ye Faithful_ plays on the radio, and I find it peculiar that a religious Christmas song is playing while Alex and I are talking about sex.

"I was 14," she replies. "It was with my neighbor."

I'm sure the look on my face is pure shock.

"I knew she slept with women."

"How'd you know that?"

"I saw her a few times," Alex says. "She'd leave the blinds open in her bedroom, which faced mine, and I could see her fucking a woman."

"Did you know what they were doing?"

She lets out a short snort. "Of course, I did…it turned me on. That's pretty much when I knew I was gay."

"How did you end up having sex with her?"

"I'd taken care of her cat while she was away, and when I went to collect the $20 she'd promised to pay me, she asked me to stay." She changes lanes to pass a long line of trucks. "I'm pretty sure she'd been drinking."

I lean towards her. "Alex, did she…?"

She looks my way. "God, no! I _wanted_ to have sex with her."

My heartrate slows.

"We had sex four or five times before my mom and I moved to a trailer park across town," she says. "I never saw her again, but it sure as hell ignited my libido."

"At 14?"

She shrugs. "I was an early bloomer."

"I wasn't."

Once again, Alex glances at me. "Is it that you just don't enjoy sex that much?"

"I enjoy it just fine." I squirm. "Like I mentioned last night, it isn't very important to me."

"And like I said last night, you haven't had _great_ sex."

I swivel my neck and blink at her. "How do you define _great sex_?"

She pauses a moment and I can see her thinking of a way to describe it. "When all your senses are on overload and it feels like you're not even in your body, you know? Like this wave of pleasure washes over you, you can't see straight, and you never want it to end."

I keep my attention on her. "How often do you have sex like that?"

"Not very," she says with a sigh. "But when it happens, you'll know it."

"You mean _if_ it happens," I reply.

"It will." Alex smirks. "You just haven't found the right woman yet."

"Why do you think it'll be a woman who makes me feel that way? Why not a man?

"Because women know what women like."

We drive in silence for the next few minutes, and I think about her comment. Is she baiting me? There's no way she'd be as calm and collected if she was trying to seduce me. After all, I was in her arms in bed last night. If it would've happened, surely she could've made a move in the stillness of night.

"Look up there." Alex startles me from my musings.

Orange cones line the right lane and there are brake lights as far as the eye can see. "What's going on?"

"Looks like two lanes are closed ahead." She switches back to the news station.

We find our way into the snarled mess and five minutes later hear the report that the plows can't keep up with the traffic—there's an hour-long delay to get to the next exit, which is only eight miles ahead.

"I hope you packed your patience." Alex rubs her forehead.

"I'm glad I peed when I had the chance." I lean my elbow against the door and let my head fall into my hand. "Let's talk about something else."

"You mean besides sex?" I detect a smirk, but I direct my attention to the trees along the side of the freeway.

"Yes."

"Alright…Where'd you grow up?"

I tell her about my childhood, and then she tells me about hers. We grew up worlds apart, but her upbringing helps me understand why she's so self-sufficient and determined.

An hour later, we arrive at Exit 32 and get off to use the bathroom and to see if we can find a television with the weather report.

"Hi," Alex greets the man behind the counter. "Can we get a key to the restroom?"

"You gotta buy something first," he says as he gnaws on a candy bar.

"I'm going to fill up on pump two." She turns to me. "You want a drink or a snack or something?"

"Yeah." I grab a Snickers and a Gatorade. "I've got this."

"You sure?"

I nod, pulling out my credit card to pay for the snacks and gas. I go to the bathroom, and when I'm done, I relieve Alex of gas pumping duties while she uses the bathroom.

"I noticed a TV in there." When she exits the restroom, she hooks a thumb over her shoulder. "Mind if I watch the news for a minute?"

"Sure."

Three minutes later, Alex returns to the car. "We can jump back on the interstate, but they're diverting traffic about five miles up the road."

"Diverting traffic where?"

"Highway 30 near Chesterfield." She pulls up the map on her phone. "I'll try to figure out a way to get us there without getting back on I-91."

"I thought you said the side roads wouldn't be plowed."

"I assume Highway 30 is the exception if they're diverting traffic that way." She stares up at me. "You're alright driving?"

"Yeah. Just tell me where to go." I pull away from the gas station and follow her directions.

Although the side streets have some snow on them, they've clearly been plowed. The traction feels ok, so I'm not worried about losing control of the car.

We make it to the highway about 45 minutes later, and although there's traffic, it's moving at 10 to 15 miles per hour. Alex and I continue to talk about our jobs on the drive, and the more I learn, the more fascinated I am.

"Have you opened any restaurants I would've heard of?"

"My first restaurant was Locanda Verde," she replies. "Robert DeNiro is co-owner."

"Wow."

"The more popular ones that I've handled openings for are Cervo's, Adda, Torishin, and Olmstead in Brooklyn."

"I've been there!" I turn to her. "It was fabulous."

"They have the best kale crab Rangoon…it makes my mouth water just thinking about it."

"I love crab Rangoon. I went to Olmstead for brunch and had a crepe with carrots and clams. It sounds weird, but somehow it worked."

"Everything Chef Baxtrom makes is delicious. He's a good guy, too." She takes a sip of ginger ale. "One of the restaurants I'm working on now is a high-end Texas barbecue spot in Hell's Kitchen," she says. "They were hoping to open last week but getting permits in Manhattan is like waiting in line at the DMV."

"I wouldn't think barbecue could ever be considered _high-end_."

"Of course it can," Alex responds. "You just jack up the prices, make the interior look glamorous, and have a couple of signature cocktails with ingredients no one has ever heard of. Voila, you have a high-end restaurant."

I chuckle. "It sounds like a scam."

"It can be." She takes another sip. "When the chefs don't nail the food or if the concept is too far off from what the public wants or expects, the restaurant doesn't last more than a year."

"Has that happened to any of the restaurants you worked on?"

She nods. "At least three or four."

"Do they ever blame your company?"

"Not really," she replies. "We typically work with a restaurant three or four months before opening, and after the first night of business, we're finished. What they do afterwards is up to them. Some of the more illustrious restaurants hire marketing firms, but the smaller mom & pop ones take over the reins without having much experience in advertising or social media strategies."

"Your job sounds fascinating."

"I love it." She smiles.

"You mentioned you were a cook," I say.

She nods. "It was a grueling job, but I can chop an onion in under 30 seconds."

"Wow," I comment. "It takes me about five minutes. I don't cook much."

"That's too bad," she says. "Cooking can be fun if you have the right ingredients and tools." She pauses. "I'll teach you some time."

My heart flutters at the thought of spending time with Alex somewhere other than in a car or a motel. "I'd like that."

After another two hours, we're at a standstill and my patience is shot. I'd called Larry to inform him of the situation, and while he was more sympathetic than he was yesterday, he pretty much told me it was a waste of time for me to try to get to the cabin. Alex, for her part, spoke with her friends who still seem eager to see her. As it turns out, they rented a house for the week, so even if she shows up tomorrow, she'll still have three nights with them.

"This is ridiculous," Alex says with her head in her hands. "Pull over when you see the next cop."

"Cop? Why?"

"I'm going to ask him what the deal is. The radio broadcasters only know what the department of transportation tells them. The police should be able to tell us what's in store for the rest of the drive."

"At least we made it into Vermont."

She glances at her watch. "Yeah, and it took us five hours to get here."

Thirty minutes later, I spot a police car and pull over.

"Wait here."

I watch Alex greet the cop and shake his hand. He points to the right, but I can't hear what he's saying. Alex shows her phone to him, presumably to look at the map. He goes to his car and pulls out a Thomas Guide, flipping the pages, and then points at something.

A couple minutes later, she gets back in the car.

"Was he helpful?"

"He didn't say what I wanted to hear." She messes with her phone again. "Turn left at the next stop sign."

"Where are we going?"

"To a town called Randolph." She scratches her head and looks my way. "It's where we're going to spend the night."


	5. Chapter 5

It's going to take another four to five hours for I-91 to be plowed where we need to continue our route, and the side roads are congested on this Christmas Eve. Most of them are still unplowed, so the few that are plowed are causing unprecedented delays. The policeman told Alex about a charming town about 30 miles North that will take us another hour to get to, but he claims it'll be worth it.

"If the Midnight Motel only had one room left, what do you think the chances are that a hotel in Randolph will have vacancy?" I try not to let frustration seep into my tone.

"The cop said there's a chance travelers can't make it to the small towns where they were planning to spend Christmas vacation, so we might be able to get a room." She scrolls through her phone. "Looks like there's an inn and a bed & breakfast in Randolph. Cross your fingers one of them has an opening."

She calls the bed & breakfast first, and they confirm all rooms are booked and they aren't expecting any cancellations. Next, she calls the Randolph Inn.

"Hi, I'm going to be traveling through Randolph today and was hoping you have a room available," Alex says.

_A_ room—singular? My stomach flips at the thought of sharing a room with her again tonight.

"Any other year, the answer would've been a firm no, but we've had a number of no-shows due to the weather," I hear the person say.

Alex perks up.

"We're trying to get in touch with two parties to see if they're able to join us," she says. "If not, we'd be happy to host you overnight."

"Yes." She smiles. "Yes, we'd love that." Before hanging up, Alex gives the woman her credit card number to hold a possible room, and the woman promises to call back as soon as she hears from the other travelers. "This is our only hope; otherwise, we'll either have to sleep in the car or keep driving until we can find a place to stay."

"I really don't want to do that," I reply.

_I just want to get out of the car_. The conversations Alex and I have had have been stimulating, and I'm very much enjoying getting to know her, but I don't want to be in a cramped space for two hours or longer if there's no vacancy at the inn.

The skies cloud up before sunset and light snow begins to fall when we see a sign for Randolph two miles ahead.

"Almost there," Alex sighs.

There's a large, wooden sign reading, "Welcome to Randolph, population 425."

"Wow, a whopping 425 people live in this supposedly charming town," she announces with sarcasm.

I follow the directional signs to the town center, and when I make a left turn, it's like we crossed into a different dimension.

"What the fuck?" Alex rolls down the window, mouth agape.

I pull over to the side of the road. "Did we go through some kind of time warp?"

The street is lined with businesses all decorated with garland and Christmas lights. There's a gazebo with white, twinkle lights around the columns and a children's choir singing underneath it. At least 50 people are gathered, listening to the kids sing _Jingle Bell Rock_. The gas lamps lining the street all have wreathes tied with red and gold ribbon around them. On my left is an ice cream shop, and on my right is a restaurant called Firehouse Pizza that has a covered, heated patio.

"This can't be real," Alex says, pinching me. "Are we even alive?"

"Ow!" I pull my arm away. "Yes, we're definitely alive and in the middle of some kind of Christmas village."

She continues gazing out the window and mutters, _fuck, _with wonder in her tone.

We're both startled when her phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ms. Vause, this is Lisa at the Randolph Inn. We were able to get in touch with one of the families who were supposed to arrive last night, but turns out, they're stuck in Boston. The room is yours if you'd like it."

Her eyes widen. "Yes, we'd love it. In fact, we just arrived in Randolph and should be there in like five minutes."

"Great. See you soon."

"Did you hear that?" she asks with exuberance.

"I did."

She throws her arms around my neck, and I try to hug her more fully, but the steering wheel is in the way. How does she smell like peppermint when all we've been eating is junk food? After an all too brief embrace, she pulls back and tucks her hair behind her ear like she wasn't supposed to hug me. I try to conceal my exhilaration that she did.

Within minutes, we find parking and enter the charming hotel that seems to have been a house once upon a time. The hardwood floors lead to an oversized green rug with two antique sofas in front of a modest fireplace. On the right side of the fireplace stands a tall Christmas tree decorated with festive ornaments, and on the left is a life-sized Nutcracker. Christmas jazz is playing lightly in the lobby as families bundle up to head outside.

I follow Alex to the front desk where she gives them our names, and the woman hands her a keycard.

"You'll be on the second floor. Sorry, we don't have an elevator, but I'm happy to get someone to carry your bags to your room."

"We'll be fine," she says. "Thank you."

"The hotel bar is just through those doors, or if you'd prefer a sit-down meal, we have four restaurants within walking distance." She slides a map across the counter. "You can find the names of all the businesses on this map."

Alex's eyes light up. "Did you say _bar_?"

"Yes, it's open until midnight."

I smile. "Maybe we should put our things in the room first."

We make our way up to Room 26, and Alex inserts the keycard, opening the door for me.

"Two beds," I comment, curious why my tone sounds disappointed.

"Great." Alex's sounds just as pitiful as mine. "Sure as hell beats the motel."

"God, yes." I flop onto one of the beds and admire the garland with white lights wrapped around the curtain rod. "I'd take this room over that sketchy one any day."

She sets her suitcase on the dresser, and then walks towards the window. "Nice view."

I get up and stand next to her, looking at the fully decorated town that stretches about half a mile down the street. "Are you sure the name of this town isn't _Rudolph_?"

She chuckles, moving into the main area.

"Look, the bathroom has a door," I comment as I walk towards it. "And a soaking tub!"

She's behind me in an instant. "A bath sounds nice."

"Doesn't it?"

"But first, a stiff drink."

"And real food." I open my suitcase. "I'm going to change." I sniff my sweatshirt. "I feel like I've been in these clothes for days."

"You can change in the bathroom with an actual door." She grins. "I'll get dressed in here."

I quickly shrug into jeans and a thick sweater, running a brush through my messy hair and dabbing on some lip gloss. Being off the road feels like a weight has been lifted, and now I just want to relax and have a cocktail with Alex without worrying about icy conditions or horrible traffic.

I step back into the bedroom just as Alex is pulling a maroon sweater over her head. "Mind if we take a walk first? I need to shake my legs out."

"As long as there's a cocktail waiting for me at the end," she responds, tugging her hair out from the neck of the sweater.

"The front desk person said there are four restaurants in town." I pick up the map of Randolph. "I saw the pizza place when we first drove in. Looks like there's a restaurant called Stone's Throw two doors down from the inn and another called La Fleur's on a side street."

"La Fleur's sounds French," Alex comments after putting on some lipstick. "Want to check it out?"

"Sure." I realize I've never seen her wearing lipstick. Even at the airport, it was worn off. Her red lips combined with her jet black hair make her look like a model.

She holds the door open for me. "You clean up nicely."

"So do you," I reply. "You smell good, too."

"I just bought this new perfume." She sniffs her wrist, and then holds it up for me to smell.

"Smells like vanilla and something else…maybe oak or leather." _It's intoxicating_. "It's nice."

She smells it once more. "Not bad."

I follow her downstairs while putting on my gloves.

"It's cold as fuck, but the fresh air is nice," she comments.

I take in a big breath through my nose, and the combination of cold air and Alex's perfume makes me dizzy. "It feels good to get out of that cramped car."

"It does." She moves her head from side to side.

I rub the back of my neck. "What I wouldn't give for a massage."

She smirks. "That could be arranged."

I blink up at her. "Yes, but at what cost?"

"I'm very cheap." Her smirk turns into a playful smile.

I bump my shoulder against hers. "Figured as much."

That causes her to laugh, and it's refreshing to see her smile after such an intense couple of days.

"I still can't believe we ended up in this place."

I glance around at the twinkling lights, festive storefronts and carolers serenading the crowded town center with their version of _White Christmas_.

"It's like Santa's village," I reply. "I've never seen anything like it."

"There was a town similar to Randolph that went all out for Christmas when I was a child," Alex begins. "But I don't remember it being this big. There might've been three or four decorated buildings, but as a kid, it felt like the whole town was lit up."

"Sounds like a good memory." From what Alex shared with me on the drive, much of her childhood was spent below the poverty line with not much hope or joy surrounding her.

She tightens her scarf. "It was."

"Did you ever do any caroling?"

She looks at me like I have two heads. "Fuck, no!"

We turn onto Maple Street.

"Why do you say it like it's outlandish?"

"I lived in a trailer park most of my childhood," she responds with a slight head shake. "We didn't _carol_ around the holidays."

I remain silent.

"Don't tell me you did?" She snaps her fingers. "Of course you did!"

I blush and look away.

"I would've made fun of you in school." I don't turn to confirm her grin.

"Probably."

"But then I would've gotten to know you." Unexpectedly, she takes my gloved hand in hers. "And I would've defended you against bullies like me."

I glance at her. "You weren't a bully."

"No." She releases my hand and adjusts her glasses. "I kept mostly to myself…still, I wouldn't have let anyone talk shit about you."

I smile. "My younger self in this alternate universe thanks you."

We arrive at the French bistro, and it's only partially full. The dining area is a small space with no more than 20 white linen-draped tables and gold-trimmed water glasses set on each one. The waiters are zipping around in Oxford shirts with black ties and crisp aprons tied around their waists.

"May I help you?" A woman with a French accent greets us.

"We'd love to have some cocktails and food." Alex glances my way.

I nod.

"You're welcome to join us at the bar, or I can seat you right over there." She points to an intimate table by the window, and once again, Alex looks to me.

"Table," I reply.

She escorts us to the right side of the room, presenting each of us with a one-page menu. "Cocktails are on the reverse."

Despite a growling stomach, I immediately flip it over and scan the list of drinks.

"Anything jumping out at you?" Alex asks, scanning the menu.

"Everything," I say. "The Jubilee looks interesting: _vodka, red wine, spiced pear liqueur, and a splash of maple syrup_."

"Sounds a little sweet," she says.

I try again. "What about the Ascot: _Cognac, sweet and dry Vermouth and Carpano Antica_."

"I try not to drink cocktails with ingredients I've never heard of."

I lower my menu. "Are you a cocktail snob?"

She chuckles. "I just like simple, classic drinks, like an Old Fashioned. In fact, that's what I'll have."

"I like trying cocktails that I'd never make at home. The stranger the ingredients, the better," I respond.

She's smiling at me, but it's an inquisitive smile—like she's trying to figure something out.

"Why are looking at me like that?" I ask.

"Like what? It's my face."

"It's a weird smile…like you're up to something."

"What could I possibly be up to?" She half-laughs.

"Welcome to La Fleur's," the waiter greets us. "May I start you off with a beverage?"

"I'll have the Jubilee," I request.

"Bourbon Old Fashioned, please, with Buffalo Trace."

"I'll get those drinks out right away. Have you decided on appetizers?"

"We haven't gotten that far yet," Alex says.

"I'll be back with your cocktails momentarily."

"Thank you," I say, and then turn my attention to my companion. "Did you ever plan the opening for a French restaurant?"

"Two." She places the white napkin with a blue stripe on her lap. "One is on the Upper Eastside called Le Pichet, and the other is Bâtard in TriBeCa."

"I can't say that I know them." I take a sip of water. "I love French food, but I don't crave it the way I crave Italian or Mexican."

"There's this Mexican place by my apartment called Rosa's. They have the best shrimp tacos in New York," she comments.

"I love a good shrimp taco." I put a napkin on my lap. "But nothing beats tamales."

"Ugh, yes." She tilts her chin back, exposing her milky white neck. "Let's order food."

I flip the menu over. "It's a tie between the Citrus-Cured Hamachi and the Shigoku Oysters."

A sound escapes her throat. "I love oysters."

"Wanna get both?"

"Yes." She sets her menu down. "And the beef tartare."

"Perfect." I smile. "This is refreshing on so many levels."

"Why's that?"

The server brings us our cocktails, and before we even get a chance to toast, both of us takes a sip.

"Damn, that's good," Alex says with eyes closed.

"Mmmm…"

"May I bring you anything else at this time?" He places a basket of warm bread on the table.

Alex orders the three appetizers.

"Great choices."

As soon as he's out of earshot, she doesn't miss a beat. "What were you saying about this being refreshing?"

"Larry and I ordered take-out a lot, but we rarely went out," I begin. "When we _did_ go out, it was to a pizza parlor or the neighborhood pub. I could count on one hand the times we went to a restaurant with white tablecloths and servers in black ties."

"Sorry to hear that." She takes another long sip of Bourbon. "Eating out is a way of life for me. When I discovered fine dining, I never looked back," she says. "I couldn't afford it when I was younger, so I got a job in the kitchen at Pepolino, where I worked for eight months, then at Marc Forgione for a short stint, and finally at Little Park in the Smyth Hotel."

"You worked in all of those kitchens?"

She nods. "It was at Little Park when I got my big break if you want to call it that."

"How'd that happen?" I butter a piece of what I assume is homemade bread.

"I always volunteered to work special events and offered advice about the way the room was set or the way they were promoting the food on social media." She pops a piece of bread into her mouth. "Fuck that's good," and continues. "One of the owners of Little Park asked if I'd be interested in shadowing their promotional manager."

I sip my cocktail. "And?"

"The rest is history," she replies. "For the first three months, I worked on the line at Little Park at night and for Romano's Restaurant Group during the day. It was grueling but worth it. Last year I switched to Piedmont, which is one of the largest restaurant promotional group in the country."

"Congratulations." I tap my glass against hers.

"Enough about me…tell me about how you got into editing."

As we eat the delicious appetizers, I tell her about my boring internships when I was at Smith, my first and second jobs, and finally my move to New York when I landed the job at _Newsweek_. Although I think my life has been pretty plain, Alex seems fascinated. She asks good questions and never loses focus. Larry wasn't as interested in my career. Maybe that was because I got job offers he only wished he'd gotten.

After savoring the food and having one more drink, Alex pays the bill with no room for rebuttal, and we move on to Stone's Throw, which is more of a casual bar & grill.

"I'm switching to wine," I announce, taking a seat on a barstool. "I can only handle one or two mixed drinks."

"Wine sounds good."

We talk more about our jobs over a bottle of Chianti, and then head back to the hotel. By 10 o'clock, the streets are mostly empty and the carolers have long since gone home. The snow has picked up, and I assume this is the second storm that we were expecting. The weather people didn't think it would have the chops of the first one, and so far that seems to be true.

"Mind if we walk around the block first?" I ask.

"Sure."

I loop my arm through hers as my head gets a little fuzzy. My insides are warmed from the alcohol, and my brain isn't firing on all cylinders. It feels wonderful to not have to think about Larry or traffic or staying in a sketchy motel. I allow myself to bask in the moment—to relish the feel of another person who seems to have enjoyed the evening as much as I have.

"Do you ever think about moving to a small town like this?" I ask.

She glances down at me. "Not really. I like my life in New York. I've never lived anywhere that you couldn't hear honking horns or sirens."

I let out a soft laugh. "Connecticut was the opposite of that—no noise from cars and very few sirens, but that's not what I mean."

We're silent for a moment, and Alex doesn't ask me to elaborate, but I do.

"I'm talking about being off the grid in a town like Randolph where everyone works hard and offers a smile to anyone who passes by. Where Christmas is a time of celebration and joy…" I pause. "I wonder what that would be like."

"My first answer is _boring_, but I'll play along," she says. "What would you do in a small town like this?"

"Work at the inn, wait tables; I don't know." I raise my shoulders. "Something where I could clock in and out each day and never bring work home with me."

"That would be nice."

We turn the corner onto a residential street.

"You know something?" I stop in my tracks. "I think this is the longest I've gone without checking work e-mail."

She stops with me. "Huh. Me, too."

"What must that kind of life be like? To not have to worry if you're going to meet deadlines or piss off your boss?"

"I have no idea," she chuckles. "It's not the world I live in."

"Me neither." I continue walking, missing the heat from Alex's body when our arms were linked.

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something," I try. "Maybe we're supposed to slow down and not worry so much about having everything under control."

She breathes in deeply and exhales a _maybe_.

I turn to her, taking both her hands in mine. "And maybe you and I were supposed to meet."

"Maybe," she repeats.

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, but neither of us moves. My head is filled with jumbled thoughts and booze, and if I attempt to kiss her, there's a chance I'll regret it seconds later. Alex strikes me as a woman who goes after what she wants, and logic tells me if she doesn't bend down to kiss me, she doesn't want it. Nothing happens, so, I continue walking, wondering what her lips would feel like against mine.

It's in that moment when I realize I _want_ Alex to kiss me. I want her hands to rake through my hair; I want to feel her breath tickle my ear; I want to know the sounds she makes when she feels pleasure. For a second, I think about making it happen. She's not _un_attracted to me—of that much I'm certain.

But I don't stop; I keep walking, feeling my pulse quicken with every step as I suddenly realize the weight of my feelings. Our leisurely walk has turned into a brisk one as I increase my pace back to the hotel. I'm too tipsy to acknowledge that there's no escaping Alex once we arrive at the inn—after all, we're sharing a room.

I don't look at her for the next five minutes, and neither of us speaks. I wonder what she's thinking, but I'm too afraid to ask.

We finally arrive at the hotel and decide one more drink isn't in the cards for us tonight.

"I'd rather take a bath," I say as we head upstairs. At least if I'm in the bathroom and she's in the bedroom, there will be some space between us. It's not that I _want_ space between us, but I don't want to do something I'll regret.

"That sounds nice." She inserts the keycard to our room.

"Do you want to go first?" I ask, removing my coat and gloves, keeping my eyes away from her.

She removes her scarf. "Or we could take a bath together."

I pause, unbelievably shocked by her offer. There's no way that's a benign invitation. "That seems highly inappropriate." How did those words just come out? I _want_ this! Fucking alcohol is creating a synapse between what I want to say and what actually leaves my mouth.

Before I have a chance to change my statement, Alex unzips her pants. "Not if we don't touch."

I step out of my jeans, holding on to the dresser to keep my balance. "That would be impossible in such a small tub."

"It's a _huge_ tub." Alex takes off her sweater, revealing the red bra I saw her in this morning. "Besides, would it be so bad if we touched?"

"Should we go in our underwear?" I stand in my bra and underwear in front of her. "I mean, it's kind of like wearing a bikini." She's practically naked, and my mouth keeps betraying me as my eyes scan her body.

"If that makes you more comfortable."

"I don't care if you see me naked," I say. "We have the same parts."

"True," she says, walking into the bathroom and running the water. "I wouldn't want to ruin my La Perlas with the hot water."

My eyes begin to darken and my fingers twitch. "It's very nice underwear."

"Thank you." She lowers one strap, and my eyes are drawn to her broad shoulder.

I squirt some shower gel into the water, hoping it provides a layer of bubbles, and then I turn my back and lower my head, giving her some privacy before she gets into the tub. Her thin, red panties hit the floor. I swallow hard.

"God, this feels good," she sighs.

I turn around and see her body fully engulfed in the bubbles.

She leans her head all the way back against the ledge, and I'm drawn to her creamy neck.

There's no question where this will go the moment I step into the bathtub, so I close my eyes and tell myself _this is meant to be_. I don't have a boyfriend, and Alex doesn't have a girlfriend. Tomorrow, we'll be at our respective places in Vermont, and this could all be a distant memory…or not.

* * *

Author's Notes: I'm cruel, I know. insert devilish grin


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter is rated M for Mature.

* * *

Because of the nozzle, I won't be able to recline like Alex on the other side of the bathtub. The only way both of us will fit is if we're facing the same direction, which means my back would have to be flush against her front—_her breasts_.

I can't stand here and stare like this; either I need to join Alex in the tub or leave. "I'm going to play some Christmas music." I retreat from the bathroom and search for my iPod with trembling hands. My pulse is beating in my ears like a drum. I don't have the wherewithal to choose an appropriate playlist, so I just play whatever music was on last. _Merry Christmas, Baby _by Otis Redding blasts through the speaker.

"I love this song," Alex says from the tub. I picture her still with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

I take a few more deep breaths before returning to the bathroom and watching Alex almost float. Her glasses are on the back of the toilet, and the tips of her hair are wet. Her eyes are shut as she lays there, lounging in the hot water and releasing the stress of the day. I want that—_I want her_.

I slowly take off my underwear and dip my toe in the water, startling her. "Sorry."

She eyes my naked body and reaches for me, grin hanging off her lips.

I grab her hand and lower myself between her legs. No sooner am I in the water than her arms wrap around me and her chin nuzzles against my shoulder.

"Good?" her voice is huskier than usual.

I allow myself to relax into her embrace, spreading my fingers so we can link hands. "Yes."

"You seem tense." She rubs my shoulders and whispers, "Relax."

I try to do as I'm told, but my body is reacting in a profound way to her touch. I don't have to look down to see that my nipples are erect or that my clit is twitching.

"That feels amazing," I say as Alex rubs my tight muscles.

"I'm glad." Her right hand slinks down, touching the side of my breast, and my breath hitches again. She doesn't stop. It travels down my side, onto my thigh.

"Is this a full body massage?" I ask.

Her breath is warm against my ear. "If you want it to be."

I can't take it anymore. I twist my neck until our mouths meet in a blistering kiss. Her tongue feels good in my mouth and she tastes like red wine. My hand snakes into her partially wet hair, and I can't pull her close enough. One hand travels across my thigh while the other claws at my back.

"_Alex_," I breathe, loving the way her name feels leaving my mouth.

I lower my hand to the breast I've wanted to touch since this morning, giving it a firm squeeze and causing her to moan. I pinch her nipple while she toys with my inner thigh. I spread my legs, letting her know where I want her fingers, and she wastes no time applying pressure to my throbbing clit. This is better than I ever imagined.

There's no graceful way to have sex in the bathtub, but we try our best—hands and mouths roaming and making each other squirm for more. Somehow, she manages to get on top of me, grabbing my hips with full force and pushing me up until I'm sitting on the edge of the tub. If I could think about more than what Alex is about to do with me, I'd worry about spilling so much water on the floor.

She drapes my right leg over her shoulder and dives in without warning, causing me to let out a primal moan. It doesn't take more than a few licks until I'm cumming into her mouth. She has to hold my hips steady as I ride out a fiery orgasm that takes me by surprise because of how quickly it happened.

When I've come down from such a high, I run a hand through my hair. "So, that's what great sex feels like?"

She lets out a muffled laugh. "I was hardly trying."

I give her a look.

"I mean, this wasn't the easiest angle. I can do much better."

"Better?" I slink back into the tub, holding her face in my hands and kissing her. "Should I take you at your word?"

"Not necessarily." She smirks against my lips. "I'm happy to demonstrate what _better_ feels like."

I shake my head. "My turn." I dip my hand under the water and touch her, causing her head to roll back.

There's no way we can have decent sex like this, so I stand abruptly and drag her out of the bathtub, lips never leaving hers. Once again, our hands and mouths cover each other's body, this time without the confines of the tub. _I can't get enough of her_. I walk us to the bed, making her crash onto her back, and then dive between her legs. She places her feet on my shoulders as I massage her clit with my finger. She squirms and moans, but I don't stop until I find the right time to replace my finger with my tongue.

That's all it takes for her to curse God for what I'm doing to her. She snakes her hands into my hair, pulling me impossibly close and fucks my mouth. I open as wide as I can to take her entire pussy in, wiggling my tongue against her clit, and then using a finger to penetrate her. It's not enough, so I insert another. She cries out for more, and then she's as lost as I was a moment ago.

Once I'm satisfied that I've drank as much of her as I possibly can, I crawl up her body with a smirk that matches hers. "Good?"

"Very." She pulls me into her arms and kisses me. "I didn't expect this."

I jut my chin back. "_Really_?"

"Really," she states. "Did you?"

"I don't know that I _expected_ it." I shrug, running a hand down her toned stomach. "But I kind of thought it was inevitable when we found out we both like girls."

"Not all lesbians are attracted to each other," she offers.

"Are you attracted to me?"

"Obviously," she offers with a modified eye roll.

"And I'm attracted to you," I say. "So it was inevitable that two women who are forced to share close quarters would get together."

That causes a full belly laugh. "I don't follow your logic, but I'm not complaining."

"But just to be sure." I shimmy down her body again, and thus begins a night of endless sex and two hours of sleep.

* * *

"Piper? Piper, wake up."

I feel someone poking my arm, but I'm not ready to open my eyes. "I don't want to."

"You _have_ to."

I feel a dip in the bed like someone just sat down.

"The snow stopped, and the freeway is apparently plowed." The bed bounces back to its normal position.

I roll over and open my sleepy eyes to see a very naked Alex walking into the bathroom. I lift the sheets to confirm I'm also naked. Then it all comes rushing back to me. I pull the sheets higher over my arms and grin.

"We have to leave in 20 minutes. I'm serious, Piper."

I see her reflection in the mirror and a toothbrush dangles out of her mouth. She doesn't look very serious.

I stretch my arms over my head. "What's the hurry?"

"I need to get to the cabin." She returns to the bedroom and stops when she ostensibly notices my exposed breasts.

I roll away from her. "I don't want to see Larry."

"You don't have to see him." She goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth.

"Can't we spend one more hour here?"

"No." Is all I hear, followed by running water. "I'm going to take a quick shower."

Alex closes the bathroom door and I'm left wondering if last night was a dream. I smell my fingers—surely it wasn't. This doesn't add up. Why would we have such a spectacular night together, and the next morning, she'd want to leave? I wasn't _that_ drunk. We had sex in the bathtub, then in the bed…and then multiple times afterwards.

I get out of bed and tap on the door. "Alex?"

"Yeah?" she asks over the noise of the shower.

"Last night…" I trail off.

She's silent as if she's waiting for me to finish.

I didn't expect this. Does she not remember? _Surely_, she does.

"We had sex," I state plainly.

I hear a muffled laugh.

I ask, "Are you worried it was a mistake?" _Please say no_.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she opens the bathroom door dripping wet, and tugs me by the arm into the shower, kissing me along the way. "Does _this_ seem like a mistake?"

I shake my head, stringing my arms over her shoulders.

"Last night was spectacular." Her fingertips tickle my left side. "I mean it." She punctuates the statement with a kiss. "I just really need to get to Vermont to celebrate my friend's birthday that I'm now two days late for." She kisses a trail down my neck while fondling my breast. "Oh, and Merry Christmas."

I smile, remembering today is December 25. "Merry Christmas."

Despite her desire to get on the road quickly, we end up having shower sex, and when the water runs cold, we finally dry off.

"I watched the weather report while you were sleeping." She tosses a towel over my head and dries my hair. "A lot of the snow has melted, and they've double the plows to clear the highways."

"That's good." I take over the hair drying duties.

"So with any luck, we'll be in St. George in two hours."

She swiftly dries off, gets dressed and packs her belongings. I'm not as fast, and I wonder if it's because I don't want our time together to end.

Alex runs a brush through her wet hair. "Almost ready?"

"Yeah." I pack the rest of my stuff, and then wheel my suitcase to meet her at the door.

"This whole thing has been…special." She kisses my forehead. "_You're_ special."

I duck my head. "That's not how I feel right now."

"Piper, I enjoyed being with you very, _very_ much." She lifts my chin. "I'm sorry we can't hang out and bask in the glow after our first time together."

I nod, not feeling totally reassured by her message but appreciating that she chose the words _first time_, which implies there will be a second. She kisses me on the lips, runs her hand down the back of my head, and then leads the way downstairs.

* * *

During the mostly tranquil drive, Alex reaches for my hand a few times. I hold hers, but I don't give her a full-fledged smile.

She kisses the back of my hand. "What's wrong?"

I take in her concerned expression. "What's going to happen when we get to Vermont?"

"You tell me," she responds.

"I don't want to be with Larry," I confess with confidence. "And he told me not to go to the cabin unless I was there last night, which clearly, I wasn't."

"Ok, well…" She squeezes my hand. "I'll take you to the airport, and you can fly back to New York."

I don't answer—I keep my head bowed and feel a pang in my chest. _Please Come Home for Christmas_ is playing through the car speakers, and I close my eyes, sad that wherever I end up, it's not like going home for Christmas.

"Or you could come with me."

I'm surprised and happy by her invitation, but I don't want it to have been born out of guilt. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"My friends think I'm sleeping with you anyway," she laughs and squeezes my hand. "Come with me."

"What about Sylvie?"

"What about her?" She raises her shoulders. "At some point she's going to have to get over the fact that we're not a couple. It's been _years_ since we were together, and I've given her every indication that it'll remain that way."

"I don't want to be in the middle of things—"

"You wouldn't be in the middle." Alex releases my hand and brings it to the back of my head. "I'd love for you to join me."

"Really?"

She gives me the most genuine smile. "Really."

I'm overjoyed by the prospect of extending my time with Alex and elated that she's the one who suggested it. I have no idea where this is headed but spending more time with her lifts my spirits tremendously.


	7. Chapter 7

We arrive at the cabin in St. George just before lunchtime, and no sooner does Alex park the car than three of her friends rush out to greet her. They all hug and kiss each other on the cheek, and for a moment, I feel like an intruder.

Alex doesn't allow my discomfort to sit for long. "This is Piper," she announces with a smile, walking around the front of the car and taking my hand.

I wave. "Hi."

"So she _is_ hot," a woman with wild reddish-blonde hair states. "We figured you wouldn't have braved the snowstorm with just anybody."

Alex nudges her glasses, avoiding the knowing smirks among the three women. "The important thing is I'm here, right?"

"I'm Nicky, the birthday girl," the red head says again with a perfunctory wave. "Welcome to our cabin in the woods."

"I'm Lorna. Merry Christmas!" A shorter woman hugs me as if she's known me her entire life. "I'm so glad you're here."

I'm a little confused as to how much Alex has filled her friends in on me. "Thank you."

"What's up? I'm Poussey." She fist-bumps me. "Sylvie's inside, but she's kinda got this weird thing with Alex, so…"

I clench my jaw and look at Alex.

"It'll be fine," she says, moving to the back of the car. "Is she really sulking in there?"

"I wouldn't call it sulking," Nicky responds, lifting one of the suitcases. "She's just being her immature self. You know the drill. Oh, and she's leaving later today. After she found out you were bringing your 'traveling companion'," Nicky uses air quotes. "She booked a flight home."

"Good," Alex responds.

I grab my suitcase.

"Let me help you with that," Lorna says in a thick Brooklyn accent. "I'll show you to your room." She turns to Alex. "I'm assuming you're sharing a room?"

Alex grins, shuts the hatchback and walks with Poussey and Nicky towards the house.

The cabin is as rustic as I imagined it would be, and although the furniture is dated, there's a huge living room with a beautiful view of the pond and a fireplace that's begging to be lit.

"Sylvie, this is Piper, Alex's new girlfriend," Lorna introduces.

"No, no, no," I quickly correct her with a wave of my hand. "I'm her _travel companion_, not her girlfriend." I don't know if this woman is psycho, so I certainly don't want her to target me. Also, Alex and I slept together last night, but we're _far_ from girlfriends.

"She's going to dump you when someone better comes along," Sylvie says from her spot on the sofa.

"I'm glad that introduction is over." Lorna puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down a hallway. "This is Nicky's and my room, that's Poussey and Sylvie's room with the bunk beds, and this will be your room with Alex."

The room, like the rest of the house, has traditional log cabin walls and matching hardwood floors. There's a double bed with a thick quilt under the A-frame and a small window above the desk. It's not nearly as luxurious as the inn where we stayed last night, but it's worlds better than the motel.

"The ceiling slopes over the bed, so be careful you don't hit your head," she advises. "None of us wanted this room because of that, but I'm sure it'll be perfectly comfortable."

"Thanks." I set my suitcase on the wooden chair.

"It's cold outside, but the cabin stays nice and toasty." Lorna twists the blinds open, providing more light inside the otherwise dark room. "You have your own thermostat if you get too hot or cold."

I smile.

"Personally, I'm a hot sleeper, so I like to keep it on 65 degrees, but Nicky is a cold sleeper, so she wants it on 70," she continues with a shrug. "What are you gonna do?"

She doesn't appear to be leaving anytime soon, so I make small talk. "How do you all know each other?"

"Prison," she states plainly.

My eyes shoot open and I stop mid-air with a t-shirt in hand to confirm what I just heard. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"We were all in prison together," she repeats. "Didn't Alex tell you?"

Alex breezes in with relaxed smile, clearly having no idea what Lorna has just revealed. "Didn't I tell her what?"

"You didn't tell her you were in prison?" Lorna asks sheepishly.

Alex dips her head and sighs. She glances at me, and I'm sure the shock is evident on my face. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Of course." Lorna ducks out, closing the door behind her, mumbling _sorry_.

"I must've misunderstood." I drop the t-shirt to the ground. "You were in _prison_?"

Her eyes are still downcast. "It was a long time ago."

I'm paralyzed. "_How_ long ago?"

She crosses her arms. "Seven years. Coincidentally, I was also _in_ for seven years."

"Holy shit, Alex!" I shake my head vigorously. "What did you do?"

"I worked for an international drug cartel," she admits without any inflection in her voice. "I was sentenced to eight years at Litchfield Federal Penitentiary and got out on good behavior after six years, 203 days."

"I…" My knees give out, so I sit on the chair, knocking over my suitcase. "Don't you think this is something you should've told me?"

"I didn't know when to bring it up." She shrugs.

"We've been in the car together and shared fucking hotel rooms over the last 48 hours!" I raise my voice. "There was plenty of time to bring it up…_All we had was time_!"

"Fine, I didn't want you to know." She puffs out a long, irritated breath. "That's a part of my life I choose not to think about. Yes, prison changed my life, and I met these amazing women at Litchfield, but it doesn't define who I am today."

I state the obvious if for no other reason than to process out loud. "You're a _felon_."

"I am," she admits raising her shoulders. "I was young, stupid and hungry for money." She stands in front of me, unfolding her arms. "The reason I was a line cook was because no one else would hire me. It's damn near impossible to get a job with a criminal record."

I blink up at her.

"I got the job I'm in now because of the work I put in, not because of an impressive resume. They knew I served time, and they still gave me a chance," she shares. "I'm not proud of where I've been but I sure as fuck am proud of where I am now."

I look at my lap, not knowing how to respond. Of all the secrets Alex might've had, this is not one I could ever conjure up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her biting the inside of her cheek. "If you want me to take you to the airport..."

"I need some time to process this." I dig through my suitcase, which is now on its side, until finding my running shoes.

"I get it."

I search for my Nike pants and thermal shirt, and even though I know they're right in front of me, it's like I can't _see_ them.

"I'm sorry," is the last thing she says before I walk out of the bedroom.

* * *

I move swiftly to the bathroom and change into running gear, heading immediately out the front door without so much as looking at Alex's friends. They probably think I'm rude, but she put me in a terribly awkward position. I hope she explains what transpired and they understand why I needed to get the fuck away from her.

I have no idea where I'll run in this unfamiliar setting, but where I go doesn't matter. I'll jog on the highway for all I care. I stretch my calves and notice a wooden directional sign pointing to a path around the pond. Perfect.

My emotions are a mix of fury, hurt and curiosity, and I don't know which one to latch onto, so I examine each one closely. The fury is the easiest one to dissect—I'm angry that Alex didn't tell me about her time in prison despite having ample time to do so. Although we never seemed at a loss for conversation, there were many times when she could've brought it up. It's not that she _owed_ me an explanation, but a prison sentence is something I should know about if I'm going to sleep with another person. In fact, an ideal time would've been when I asked her if she was an ax murderer. _No, but I __**did**__ serve time_ is how she could've broached the subject. How would I have reacted if she'd confessed that first night? I probably would've walked to the diner and taken my chances of getting home later that night.

I turn onto a path covered with snow, but it looks solid enough to run on.

The next emotion is hurt—I'm hurt that she'd have sex with me but didn't respect me enough to fill me in on such a monumental part of her life. If what we had was merely a one-night stand, I get it—she wouldn't owe me an explanation about any part of her life. However, she's the one who asked if I wanted to join her at the cabin. She's the one who chose the words after we had sex, _first time_, implying there would be another.

The snow gets deeper the further I go, so I find my way to a paved road that makes it much easier to run at a faster pace. I'm working up a sweat, and it feels good every time my foot pounds against the pavement.

Then there's my curiosity. What must her life have been like that she felt the need to turn to drugs? Did she _do_ the drugs she was pushing? Does she still do drugs? I didn't notice any track marks on her arms or needle pricks in the crook of her elbow, but then again, I haven't examined her body—at least not those parts. How did she spend her time in prison? Was it terrifying? How did the women at the cabin meet while they were locked up—were they cell mates? What were _their_ crimes and when were they released?

I contemplate all those things as I run, cold air pumping in and out of my lungs and almost freezing my throat. I don't know how far I've traveled, but when I come to a crossroad, I stop to catch my breath. I place my hands on my knees and let my head hang, feeling dizzy from the cold air and the gravity of the situation. Should I care this much? I mean, does it really affect my life?

I start my run back to the cabin. For all I know, Alex and I could spend a night at the cabin and never speak again. I could also ask her to take me to the Burlington Airport and forget this whole adventure ever happened. I could call Larry and beg him to allow me to join his family in Shelburne. No, I won't do that.

Trouble is, I like Alex—I _really_ like her. I could see spending more time with her when we're back in Manhattan. I could see us dating, and that's not something I've felt about another person in a long time. I began a relationship with Larry out of convenience. My other boyfriends were pretty much the same, and the girls I hooked up with were insignificant. Alex makes me _feel_ something; she makes my whole body tingle and I don't mean just in bed. We've only known each other for three days, but I crave her attention and want to know more about her. Is there something else she hasn't told me about her life that would be critical to determine if I want to pursue this?

I arrive back near the cabin having categorized my emotions, but I haven't decided if I should stay or leave. As I walk the last 30 yards or so down the driveway, I spot Alex sitting in an Adirondack chair.

She stands upon seeing me. "Hey."

I remove my wool headband that's damp with sweat, but I don't return her greeting.

"I was getting worried," she says through a nervous laugh.

I wipe my forehead. "How long have I been gone?"

"About 45 minutes…Forty-two to be exact." She looks away as if she revealed too much, but then continues, "I thought maybe you'd _literally_ run away."

I unzip my jacket and tighten my jaw. "I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind."

"I'm sorry, Piper." She takes a few steps closer until we're eye to eye. "I had no idea where this thing was headed, and I didn't want to freak you out by telling you about my time in prison."

I try keeping my expression neutral. "It _would've_ freaked me out."

She looks into the distance and issues a self-deprecating smile. "Who wants to be alone in a motel with a fucking felon, right?"

"I don't think I would've agreed to ride with you had I known," I respond honestly.

"That's fair."

I put my hands on my hips. "What else haven't you told me?"

"Nothing." Her eyes return to mine. "I swear," she says with conviction. "I mean, I'm sure there are little things you'll find out the more we get to know each other, but nothing massive like this."

Silence permeates the air, and all I can hear are birds chirping and the occasional car passing by. Logic tells me to simply walk away—ask one of her friends to take me to a bus station or to the airport. I could even investigate if Uber exists in St. George.

"I'm embarrassed that I served time," she finally says. "It's obviously not something I trot out to impress people."

"Were you trying to impress me?"

"I don't know if _impress_ is the right word." She raises her shoulders. "But the more I got to know you, the more I wanted you to like me." Alex doesn't strike me as someone who is comfortable being vulnerable, so I appreciate her comment that much more.

"I did like you," I reply, feeling my defenses shatter. "I _do_ like you."

"I am really, _really_ sorry." She takes my hand. "I want you to stay."

I look at our joined hands, and then back up at her, but I don't respond.

"As crazy as it sounds, I think we could be good together," Alex offers. "Not just over the Christmas holiday, but…permanently." She quickly corrects herself. "I don't mean marriage or anything, but—"

"I know what you mean," I interject. "And maybe we _could_ be good together, but not if we hide things from each other."

"I already told you, I'm not hid—"

Before she has a chance to finish, I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her. My head is whirling, and I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing but _kissing her feels so fucking good_. The kiss lasts longer than I intended, but I can't seem to pull away from Alex's warm, soft lips.

Finally, I rest my forehead against hers. "No more secrets?"

She shakes her head. "No more secrets."

"Ok." I take her hand and walk back to the cabin. "So, should I be worried about Sylvie around kitchen knives?"

That gives her a good laugh.

* * *

As soon as we walk inside, Lorna greets me. "I'm sorry I spilled the beans."

"It's ok," I reply.

"That's something Alex should've told you when the time was right," she continues. "And I opened my big mouth."

I shrug. "We cleared the air, so…"

Alex kisses the side of my head, and I love the simplicity of it. It's a reassurance to me that everything is ok, yet it's also a sort of an unspoken statement in front of her friends.

"Hey, Chapman, you know how to make a sandwich?" Nicky calls from the kitchen as if she's unfazed by any of this.

"Yes." I head in that direction. "Sandwich making is a culinary skill I possess."

"Then make yourself useful on this assembly line."

I wash my hands and then stand next to her.

We make five sandwiches while Poussey fills glasses with water and Alex hooks her iPod up to a speaker to play Christmas music.

"Vause, this is the last meal we're going to prepare," Nicky says, tapping her shoulder against my arm. "She's a trained chef. Wait until you see the shit she can whip up."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a chef?" Alex places napkins on the table. "I worked the fucking line—that's a far cry from being a chef."

"Cook, chef, whatever," Poussey chimes in with a clap. "Girl can cook!"

"I can't wait to try her food," I reply.

"You'll do more than taste it." She returns to the kitchen for a bag of potato chips. "You're going to help me prepare it."

The other women make noises like I'm in trouble.

I make a sweeping motion over the sandwiches. "I have just demonstrated my culinary acumen."

"Everyone has to start somewhere," she says as she breezes by, trailing a hand across my lower back.

"Yeah, we've had to fend for ourselves for three fucking nights," Nicky says. "I expect greatness from you."

Everyone but Sylvie eats at the kitchen table, and they fill us in on what they've done at the cabin for the past few days. It consists of a whole lot of drinking, smoking and eating.

"We _did_ go to the grocery store," Lorna offers. "That was our big adventure."

"Do I need to go to the store today to prep for dinner?" Alex asks.

"Check out the fridge and the pantry," Poussey says, leaning back in her chair. "I feel like we bought every protein in the store and lots of other shit like vegetables, peanut butter, pasta, stuff to make biscuits...you name it, we probably bought it."

"What have you cooked so far?"

"We've eaten sandwiches every day for lunch," Poussey replies. "Had a frozen lasagna for dinner the first night and pizza the last two nights."

"Gross." Alex makes a face.

"And Rhodes cinnamon rolls for breakfast," Lorna adds. "Those are my favorite."

Alex sighs. "We've got our work cut out for us."

"You owe us a spectacular birthday AND Christmas dinner combination," Nicky adds.

Alex squeezes my knee under the table. "I promise we'll make it special."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Someone mentioned missing my author's notes, so I'm happy to write one for this chapter. I thought these little notes would just clog things up before you continue reading the story, but I'm pleased to know at least one of you likes an author's note...Writing "The Christmas Drive" has been thoroughly enjoyable! Sometimes I get to a point in the story where I don't know where to go next, but that's not the case for any of my Christmas fics. Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but when I write fanfiction, I can picture the scenes as clear as day. I see Alex's expressions or hear Piper's musings, and it makes it easier to write what I see. So please enjoy the next four chapters and thank you SO MUCH for the feedback!

* * *

The rest of the afternoon, we lounge around the cabin, drinking beer and sharing stories about our favorite Christmas memories. There are a number of stories about prison Christmases, and I learn that Poussey and Sylvie (who departed an hour ago) didn't serve time—only Alex, Nicky and Lorna. Although I have a million questions about Alex's time in prison, she does little things throughout the day to reassure me that answers will come eventually. It's nothing she _says_; rather, it's a look or a touch, and as far-fetched as it seems, I understand the meaning behind her non-verbal cues.

Poussey does a good job of breaking up the prison stories when they become too singularly focused, and I wonder how long she's been part of this group. She stands her ground and enjoys being included, and they seem to respect her for that. For my part, I enjoy listening to everyone's stories, and of course, being near Alex. Occasionally she rests her hand on the inside of my thigh or strings her arm over my shoulders, and it sends waves of exhilaration throughout my body.

As dusk approaches, we decide to build a fire outside and switch from beer to wine or cocktails. There are very few mixers, so I stick with red wine, while Alex chooses Bourbon on the rocks.

Poussey carries an armful of logs to the fire pit, dropping them in. "Who has the matches?"

"Got 'em." Nicky rolls up pieces of newspaper under the wood and lights the edges.

Lorna and Alex shovel the snow away from the small area, and then carry three cushions from the outdoor furniture for us to sit on, while I grab as many blankets as I can from inside.

Nicky points at each of us. "Does everyone have their beverage of choice?"

"I'm missing something," Lorna states.

"A few brain cells," Nicky replies, kissing the top of her head. "Be right back."

Alex stands next to me and asks in a soft voice, "Are you good?"

I nod and flash a smile.

She kisses the side of my mouth, and then holds my hand while reaching for her drink that's perched on the ledge. She sits on one of the loveseat cushions, leaning her back against the ledge and motions for me to sit between her legs.

I get a tingly sensation when she touches me and sitting in this position makes the feeling more pronounced. Part of me wants to go to the bedroom and fuck her senseless, but I know how important it is for Alex to be with her friends tonight. Just the thought of fucking her _later_ is enough to make me wet.

"We haven't been the best hostesses," Lorna announces. "This whole afternoon, we've been talking about ourselves and haven't included Piper in our conversations."

"It's not a big deal." I make a shoo'ing motion with my hand.

"We want to know more about you," she continues.

"We Googled her yesterday." Nicky hands her a glass of clear liquid with a slice of lime that I can only assume is vodka or gin on the rocks. "What more do we need to know?"

"You Googled me?"

"Of course we did," Nicky adds. "We didn't know if our friend was traveling with a psychopath, so we did a little bit of Internet digging of our own."

I feel Alex's chest move behind me, and it's evident she's trying to stifle a laugh.

"Technically, we used Safari not Google," Poussey chimes in. "But yeah."

"I'm sure you didn't find much," I comment, wondering what elicited this level of prying. Has Alex dated crazy women before, and her friends are trying to protect her?

"You've led a pretty boring fucking life," Nicky replies.

That makes everyone laugh, including me.

"Well…" I raise my glass. "Here's hoping it gets more exciting."

There are shouts of agreement and cheers.

"I still think we should learn more about Piper though. Stuff the Internet can't tell us," Lorna continues. "Like what's your favorite color?"

Poussey leans forward. "Do you know _my_ favorite color?"

"Uh, blue?" Lorna tries.

Poussey tosses a pebble at her leg. "It's purple, fool!"

"Maybe we should open it up to the whole group then," Lorna suggests with outspread arms.

"A little game of truth or dare?" Nicky wiggles her eyebrows.

"I'm a grown ass woman," Alex says through laughter. "I'm not playing truth or dare."

Poussey raises her hand. "I'm in."

"Me, too," Lorna responds with fervor.

Nicky nods in my direction. "Chapman?"

I take a slow sip of wine, wondering what I might get myself into, but then acquiesce. "Fine, I'll play."

"I guess that means you have to play by default, Vause."

Alex playfully shoves me. "Why'd you agree to this?"

"I like games." I shrug.

Nicky lays out the rules, and it seems like this group takes rules seriously. If someone refuses to do the dare or answer a question, she has to take a shot of tequila. That might not sound like a punishment but considering the amount we've already consumed and what we'll likely drink over the course of the night, it would be punishment by way of puking all night.

"Piper, since you're the newest member of our group, you go first."

"Ok." I tap my chin. "Lorna, truth or dare?"

"I'll do a dare."

"Hmm…" I think for a moment. "I dare you to take off your shoes and socks and stand in the pond for a full minute."

Poussey gets a kick out of my dare, and Lorna protests. Nicky pushes her towards the pond, telling her she has to do it. I feel pleased with my choice.

"The water is freezing!" Lorna comes back shivering and places her bare feet as close to the fire as possible. "I thought you liked me, Piper?"

"I do!" I rub her leg. "You're a good sport."

"My turn." She clears her throat. "Poussey, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you and Sylvie ever hooked up?" Lorna waits with bated breath.

Poussey throws her whole body back and gives Lorna an _are you crazy_ look. "Fuck, no!"

The game goes on like this for another 30 minutes, but no _dare_ has been too outlandish, and no _truth_ has been too personal up until this point.

"Alright, Vause, truth or dare?" Nicky asks, rubbing her hands together after having revealed a _truth_ about her first orgasm.

"I'll go with truth this time."

(Her last dare was to karaoke to _Santa Baby_, apparently her least favorite Christmas song, in front of all of us. That led to the iPod speaker coming outside so we could listen to more Christmas music.)

"Truth, huh?" Nicky swirls the last bit of alcohol in her glass as she thinks. "I know we've given you shit about it, and we were only half-joking at first," Nicky starts. "But have you and Chapman fucked?"

My eyes widen as I stare at Alex, wondering if she'll confess.

Poussey points at me, laughing. "The look on your face!"

"We did," Alex admits, squeezing my arm. "Last night."

Since she fessed up, I don't see a reason to keep quiet, so I boldly add, "And it was spectacular."

They all hoot and holler, and Poussey gives me a high five.

Nicky looks a little surprised. "Have you been secretly dating for months and are only just telling us about it now?"

"No." I raise one hand as if swearing the truth. "We really just met at the airport three days ago."

"And let me tell you, it's a miracle we ended up here," Alex offers with a chuckle. She shares a short version of these past few days, and Lorna places her hand over her heart.

"That's so sweet!"

"Alright, alright…" Alex kisses me, and then returns to the game, giving Lorna another dare that involves a hula hoop.

Lorna sits back down, leaning forward. "I want to know more about the two of you meeting, so Alex, I'm going back to you. Truth or dare?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm assuming you want me to choose truth?"

"Yes, perfect!" Lorna claps. "When did you know you wanted to fuck Chapman?"

Nicky and Poussey raise their eyebrows and listen closely. "Do tell."

"To _fuck_ her?" Alex scrunches her lips to the side and taps a finger on my leg. "The moment I saw her."

They continue laughing, and I stare at Alex, curious to hear more and wondering if that's also when I became attracted to her. Despite being furious with her for 'stealing' my seat, I couldn't deny she was a beautiful woman. But as far as my desire to have sex with her, I think that came the next day.

"But it probably wasn't until she started searching for bed bugs in the motel when I thought more than just about fucking her—I began _liking_ her." She glances at me with the hint of a blush on her cheeks. "It took me by surprise."

"Really?" I ask.

"You were so determined to save us from potential bed bugs—it was endearing." She chuckles. "Everything fell into place after that."

I cup her face and lean in for a kiss.

"Take that crap to the bedroom!" Nicky shoves Alex, toppling us both over.

Alex steadies us and laughs. "As much as I hate to cut this party short, Piper and I need to get dinner started if we want to eat before midnight."

"Screw that!" Poussey says, followed by the others encouraging us to stay.

I extend a hand to help Alex stand. "I'll refill everyone's drink."

"Now we're talking," Nicky says, offering her empty glass to me.

Although my arms are full with drinking glasses, the moment we get inside, Alex shoves me against the wall and kisses me hard. She uses one hand to untuck my three layers of shirts while the other cradles my face. Her hips buck against me, and I drop one of the glasses and it crashes to the floor.

"Shit!"

"Don't worry about it." She laughs against my mouth. "I'm sure the owners won't miss _one_ glass."

I stare at the pieces on the floor, and the good news is that it broke into four big chunks rather than shards of glass all over the ground.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," she says between kisses.

"Break a glass?" I ask with a smirk.

Poussey knocks on the sliding door. "Everything alright in here? I heard something break."

"They're probably fucking," Nicky adds.

"These walls are thin," I comment in a hushed voice.

"We're not fucking," Alex shouts back at them. Then she turns to me with a gleam in her eye. "Hopefully the bedroom walls are thicker."

"God, I hope so." I kiss her one more time, longer and harder than the original kiss, leaving no doubt in her mind: _I want this_.

I pull out of her grasp and set the glasses on the counter, and Alex finds a broom to clean up the mess.

"I'm going to refill these drinks, and then I'll help you with dinner," I say.

"You really don't need to help." She opens the refrigerator, pulling out a few items. "Go outside. Enjoy playing 20 questions with my friends."

"I don't mind helping," I reply. "I'm not good at cooking, but I can try."

"Tell you what." She sets the ingredients on the counter. "I'll call you when I need help, but until then, go drink and be merry." She kisses my forehead.

"If you insist."

It takes me two trips to bring everyone a refilled glass, but at least that earns me a kiss each time I go back inside.

Nicky sips her cocktail. "So, you two met in the airport?"

"Yes." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I take my place where Alex was sitting earlier. "I never imagined _this_ would happen."

"You're a lucky woman."

I eye the other women. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Alex is a hot commodity in the Manhattan lesbian circle," Nicky continues.

I raise my brows. "Are you saying I should watch my back?"

She gets up to stoke the fire. "No, but if the two of you become a thing, you're going to have some competition."

"Does she have a wandering eye?"

"Don't listen to her!" Poussey swats at Nicky. "It's true, the ladies are attracted Alex, I mean look at her…God made her right," she continues with a snap. "But she's not promiscuous and shit. I mean, she dates a few times a month, but it ain't like Nicky's making it out to be."

Lorna nods. "Alex is a very loyal person."

I sip my wine, but I don't feel settled. "I'm going to take things one day at a time and see where this goes."

"That's a good plan." Nicky sits next to me, putting a hand on my knee. "But between you and me, I think she likes you…a lot."

"So do I." Lorna puts her hand over her heart. "I haven't seen her smile this much since the day she got out of prison."

I decide to turn the conversation away from my budding relationship with Alex. "Were either of you her cell mate?"

"No, and that's not what we call them—it's bunk mate or Bunkie."

"I don't think it would be proper if I asked why you were in prison or how much time you served," I lob out there.

Nicky chuckles. "But you're asking anyway?"

Lorna is the first to tell me her story, and as it turns out, she and Nicky have an on again/off again relationship, which is currently "on" over this holiday. (Something about the body needing human connection, but Lorna really wants to find a husband.) Nicky shares her story next, but neither divulges any information about Alex. It's just as well because I want to hear directly from her. Poussey shares that she and Sylvie were roommates during the time Alex and Sylvie were together, and that's how she got connected with this group of friends.

From what I can tell, these women don't take their time in prison lightly and have no intention of committing crimes in the future. There's no laughing or joking when they talk about what prison can do to a person's psyche. Of course, they find humor in some of the situations they were in, but as a whole, prison wasn't fun or educational. Even though they were in a minimum security facility, it was still, as Nicky put it, "hell on earth."

Alex opens the sliding door and peeks out. "I'm ready for some help."

"Are you looking for someone to help locate your tonsils or actual food prep?" Nicky chides.

I dust off my butt and glance in Nicky's direction. "I'm happy to do both."

Alex opens the door wider for me. "Were you having fun out there?"

"Yeah." I turn around and look at the women laughing around the fire. "They're a good group of friends."

"They are." She gives me a peck on the lips, and then pushes six small potatoes in my direction. "Would you mind quartering these?" She demonstrates. "Like this."

"Got it." I wash my hands and start chopping, and Alex continues the conversation.

"I don't know if I would've survived without them." She rubs butter on the chicken thighs. "Being with other women in prison is how you make it through—that's why segregation is so fucking brutal."

"Were you ever segregated?"

"Twice." She spreads rosemary and salt on the chicken.

I push two quartered potatoes aside. "What did you do?"

"Almost anything can get you sent to Ad Seg," she states. "It depends on the guard's mood that day or the severity of the infraction."

I stop chopping and look at her. "If you don't want to share the details, I understand."

"You're a curious person." A tiny grin touches the corners of her mouth. "I expected you'd ask questions."

"If I ever cross the line—"

"I'll tell you." She shrugs, and then returns her attention to the chicken. "The first time I was sent to the hole was apparently for my protection, which is total bullshit. They claimed there was a prison gang who wanted to murder me, but there was no indication of that being true. I was only in there for two days." She tosses the potatoes into a pot. "When you're done with those, follow the directions on this box to make biscuits."

"What about the second time?"

"They found my shiv." She pours broth into the pot. "There was no getting out of that one."

"You made a shiv?"

"Yeah." She takes bacon out of the microwave and crumbles it. "I melted a razor blade into a toothbrush. Almost everyone had some kind of weapon at Litchfield. Our bunks were wide open, so wasn't like the prison cells you see on tv where there are bars and a locked gate that only a guard can open." Alex dumps a bag of frozen peas into another pot. "Anyone could walk into your area and fucking slice your throat right open."

I swallow hard. "Did that happen to anyone while you were there?"

She stops and stares at me. "No, but the threat was always there."

"It sounds awful." I push the last pieces of potatoes aside.

"Take the worst situation you've ever been in, multiply it by 100, and that just about sums it up." She dumps the last of the potatoes into the large pot and covers it. "I'm happy to answer your questions about prison, but for the rest of tonight, let's focus on having a nice Christmas evening."

I hug her. "Let's."

* * *

Half an hour later, it starts snowing, and the women gather back inside.

"I didn't think it was supposed to snow today," Lorna says, brushing flakes off her coat.

"Mother Nature had other plans." Poussey carries some wood inside and tosses it into the fireplace. "No problem though; we'll bring the party inside."

"The soup is ready, so if we want to start with that…" Alex trails off, grabbing five bowls from the cupboard. "And someone can set the table."

"I'll do that," Lorna replies. "I love folding napkins all pretty. I can make it look like a swan."

"A what?" Nicky asks.

"A swan," she repeats. "You know, like a big, white duck with a long neck?"

"Swan? Oh, got it." Nicky laughs. "I'll open more wine."

I wash the cutting board, knives and a pot, enjoying the interactions among these women.

Poussey brings the iPod and speaker inside and continues playing Christmas music. "What's for dinner?"

"We'll start with potato and corn chowder." Alex ladles the soup into small bowls. "You can top it with bacon bits and chives." She sets the filled bowls on the counter. "And for dinner, we're having baked rosemary chicken, orange glazed carrots, cheddar-scallion drop biscuits, and peas with mint."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nicky chuckles. "There's no way we had all those ingredients here. Piper, tell us the truth, did you stop at a grocery store on the drive up this morning?"

I dry my hands. "We didn't stop for anything."

"How'd you come up with this shit, Vause?"

"It wasn't that difficult." She shrugs. "Grab a bowl of soup and sit at the table. The chicken will be done in another 30 minutes."

We all sit down as Nicky fills glasses with white or red wine.

"Although I haven't said grace since I was like five, I'd like to make a toast." Alex raises her glass. "To Nicky on her very special birthday. We're all better people because of her love and laughter." Everyone taps glasses. "And to meeting new people in unexpected places." She stares right at me with a gorgeous smile. "Merry Christmas."

Once again everyone says their words of _cheers_ and _thank you_ before digging into the hot soup and praising Alex for her cooking skills. I can't stop grinning at Alex who looks as happy as I'm sure I do. I reach under the table, placing my hand on her thigh, and she grabs my hand, squeezing it.

She leans towards me and says in a voice loud enough for only me to hear, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too." I release her hand and dive into the soup, echoing everyone else's praise.

Over the next two hours we eat dinner, taking our time savoring every bite of food and drinking another bottle of wine. I feel like I've known these women for years and have to remind myself that we only met today.

Alex scoots her chair back. "Hope you saved room for dessert."

"What could you have possibly pulled together?" Nicky asks.

She takes five ramakins out of the freezer. "Homemade vanilla custard with a Bourbon-cherry syrup."

"You're killing me," Nicky replies in an astonished half-laugh. "Hey, I'd like to raise a glass to our talented chef who pulled this delicious shit out of her ass. Cheers to Alex!"

"I don't think you should call it 'delicious shit'," Lorna complains. "It's delicious _food_."

Poussey, Lorna and I clean the kitchen and wash the dishes, and when we're done, we join Alex and Nicky in the living room. Alex lifts her arm, indicating she wants me to scoot in next to her, and I eagerly oblige. I'm drunk and tired, so there's a good chance I'll fall asleep right here.

"It's tradition that we watch a Christmas movie together, so I've chosen two. The one with the most votes wins." Nicky holds up two DVDs. "We've got _Scrooged_ with Bill Murray and the 2003 Classic, _Bad Santa_."

"Those are terrible choices," I comment.

Poussey chimes in, "Let me guess, those were the options in prison?"

"Bingo!" Nicky shouts. "So they're classics to the three of us."

"They _are_ horrible movies." Alex laughs. "Do we really want to relive prison Christmases?"

"Sounds like it's a tie, so I'll go with _Scrooged_." She slides the DVD into the player. "Enjoy this cinematic classic."

That makes it much easier for me to drift off to sleep in Alex's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

This chapter is M for Mature

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night under a sloping ceiling and it takes a moment to place where I am. To be fair, this is the third bed I've slept in over the past three days, so it's only fitting to question where in the hell I am. I turn my head on the pillow and see Alex asleep next to me. I have no recollection of getting into bed, so I'm assuming she assisted me. I'm wearing a t-shirt that I have no idea how I got into nor do I recognize it as my own, but that means we probably didn't have sex. I roll onto my side facing her and notice she's in a gray shirt with a ripped sleeve.

I reach out to tuck her dark hair behind her ear, allowing my thumb to skim her cheek. _She's beautiful_, I think. _How did this happen?_ How did we end up here? It seems impossible. It's too much for my sleepy and still somewhat inebriated brain to comprehend, but I can't shake this feeling of _fate_.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asks in a raspier than usual voice, eyes still shut.

I grin. "How'd you know I was staring?"

She reaches for me. "I can feel your eyes, burning a hole into my skull."

I snuggle under her arm. "That's a little dramatic."

She lets out a long, content sigh.

"How'd I get here?"

"We drove from LaGuardia and got stuck in two snowstorms," she replies sarcastically, eyes still shut.

"Ha, ha." I lift my head, giving her a look. "You know that's not what I mean."

"I walked you to the bedroom, stripped your clothes off, which wasn't nearly as erotic as it sounds, and threw one of my t-shirts on you so you wouldn't be cold."

"Aww!"

"It really wasn't romantic," she deadpans.

"It was, actually." I kiss her cheek. "You could've had your way with me, but you didn't take advantage of the situation."

"I figured it would be much more satisfying if you were an equal participant." She finally opens her eyes. "Speaking of…"

"Speaking of what?" I kiss her softly at first, but it doesn't take long for things to heat up.

Before I know it, we're rolling around naked, touching every bit of skin we can find. I crawl on top of her and realize there's an advantage to having a sloped ceiling. I put one hand flat on the wood paneling above me and use the other to position myself like a scissors between her legs. The pressure I'm able to exert on both of our clits is incredible. I move my hips back and forth, raising both hands to the ceiling to make the pressure even more intense, and Alex grabs my hips and writhes beneath me.

She cums before I do, but with only a few more thrusts, I melt into her and let out a roar that surely is heard by our housemates.

"_Fuck_," she pants. "I don't think I've ever gotten off tribbing. It's not even a thing."

I slide down her body, intending to continue the momentum with my mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Scissoring, tribbing, whatever you want to call it—that's not something lesbians do as often as people think."

"I didn't know that." I run my hands down her thighs. "But I knew there'd be a benefit to getting the room with the A-framed ceiling."

Alex's smile is quickly replaced by her teeth biting down on her lower lip. I lick her a few times and she tosses an arm over her forehead, mumbling words of encouragement.

* * *

There's no clock in the room and my phone is charging on the desk, so I don't know what time it is when I wake up the next morning.

"Good morning."

She grins at me, flattening my hair that I'm sure is pointing in all directions. "Morning."

"Was I obnoxious last night? I mean, before we had sex."

"No, but you _did_ ask an amusing question."

I crease my brow, waiting for an explanation.

"You asked if I had a prison girlfriend." She smirks.

"I did?" I throw my arm over my eyes and roll onto my back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she says through a half-laugh.

I lift my arm enough so that one of my eyes is peeking out. "But did you?"

She continues to laugh. "Have a prison girlfriend?"

I nod.

"No," Alex responds. "I had sex with a few women, but no prison girlfriend per se." She must be able to tell I'm about to ask a follow up question, so she continues before I can get a word in. "And _no_, I didn't have sex with Nicky or Lorna."

"Oh." I uncover my eyes and roll onto my side again. "That's a relief."

"I'm glad you're relieved." She rubs my arm. "Should we get up?"

"Probably. I have no idea what time it is."

She sits up, stretches, giving me a wonderful view of her breasts, and reaches for her phone. "It's a little after nine."

"Wow." I sit up. "I haven't slept this late in a ages."

"Well, we _were_ up half the night." She kisses my shoulder before getting out of bed.

"I don't think it was half the night." I step into my sweatpants. "It was two hours tops."

"Two incredible hours," she adds, pulling a long-sleeved shirt over her head.

I dig for a clean shirt in my suitcase. "I'm running out of clean clothes."

"I'm sure there's a washing machine here." She grabs my hand. "When do you have to head back?"

"Technically, not until Monday, but I need to check my Inbox today." I put on a green and white half-sleeve baseball shirt. "This is the longest I've gone without checking my e-mail since I started at _Newsweek_."

"Would you want to stay here one more night?"

I reach up to kiss her, elated by the offer. "I'd love to."

She smiles, rubbing her thumb against my jawline. "I should put in a couple hours of work this afternoon, too."

"I wish the world stopped for a week," I comment. "And we wouldn't have to worry about meeting deadlines or making our bosses happy."

"Tell me about it."

We walk into the living room together and see Nicky and Lorna sitting on the sofa and Poussey lying on the ground, presumably hungover.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to come out and play," Nicky greets us.

"Good morning to you, too," Alex responds. "I smell coffee."

"I just made a fresh pot," Lorna says.

"You got a set of lungs on you, Chapman," Nicky says. "At first I thought it was a wild beast."

"A beast? Funny, it sounded like an orgasm to me," I toss back.

Alex's expression is a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Don't give her any more reasons to strut. "Nicky pads into the kitchen, jutting her chin towards Alex. "You're a fucking peacock after you get laid."

"Oh, I love peacocks," Lorna comments. "I saw a whole bunch of 'em one time at the zoo. It's the male ones that have the most colorful plumes."

I chuckle as I catch Alex's eye.

We spend the morning lazing around, drinking coffee and eating gourmet omelettes that Alex prepared. Lorna and I agree that even though it's December 26, we should still listen to Christmas music. I watch Alex move around the kitchen with confidence, and it's not the first time I'm struck by her self-assurance. I wonder if there's anything that intimidates her.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announce, moving towards the hallway.

"If you want me to throw some of your clothes in the washing machine, just put them on the floor next to the bed," Alex offers.

Nicky makes a sound. "You're doing her laundry now?"

"I'll do yours, too," she replies with a shrug. "I'm a pro, remember?" Alex directs her attention to me. "I was assigned to the laundry room for my prison job."

"Oh."

I'm thankful she didn't make it all about me. I believe Nicky likes me, but I don't want her impression to be that Alex and I are in domestic bliss after only knowing each other a few days. I've had friends who started dating their significant other and it felt like they'd brushed me aside, and it's not a welcome feeling. Besides, this is Nicky's birthday trip, and it should be all about her. I don't share my thoughts with Alex; she'd probably say I'm being ridiculous.

I place pretty much every stitch of clothing on the bed to be washed and take the one fresh pair of underwear left with me to the bathroom along with a red sweater and jeans. Before I enter the bathroom, I hear Poussey talking to Alex.

"Yo, Piper's alright."

"I think she's very pretty and sweet," Lorna adds.

"I never know how to respond to compliments like that." I picture Alex grinning. "If I say, _thank you_, it's like I had something to do with her being attractive and kind."

"Just accept that she makes you smile," Lorna replies.

"She definitely does that."

I blush as I enter the bathroom.

* * *

After my shower, I return to the living room feeling refreshed and ready to start a new day.

"I'm going to build a bad ass snowman," Poussey announces with a clap. "Who's with me?"

Lorna raises her hand. "Oh, me!"

"I used to be an expert snowman builder," I comment. "Let's see if I still have the touch."

"I'll hang back with this one." Alex juts her head towards Nicky. "Have fun."

The three of us build a pretty impressive snowman, and I enjoy getting to know Lorna and Poussey a bit more. I learn that Poussey grew up as a military brat and has lived all over the world. There was a time when she considered joining the Army, but her mother talked her out of it, saying it was a lonely life. Lorna, on the other hand, was in love with a man named Christopher before her time in prison, but when she finally realized he didn't return her love, she moved on. (Though it sounds to me like she really hasn't moved on.) From what I gather, she struggles with mental health issues but has a heart of gold. I can see why Alex is friends with both women, and I hope I continue getting to know them better.

"Look at our snowman!" Lorna greets Alex who walks outside all bundled up.

"Not bad."

"He needs better arms. I'm going to find some sticks," she replies.

Alex grins at me. "Hey."

I get butterflies when she looks at me. "Hi."

"Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure." I turn to Poussey. "Are you good here?"

"Yeah, I'm going to run inside and see if I can scrounge up a carrot for his nose…maybe some buttons, too. Make him a formal snowman like he's wearing a tuxedo and shit."

Alex takes my hand as we walk through the fresh snow along the path by the pond.

"Having fun?"

I nod and squeeze her hand. "I like your friends."

She smiles. "They like you."

"I'm glad."

"Nicky and I were talking about going into town tonight for dinner," she says. "Apparently there's a burger joint she wants to try."

"Sounds good."

We walk next to the pond as the sun shines brightly above, casting a reflection of the Evergreens on the water. The air is fresh and clean, and I didn't realize how badly I needed to get out of Manhattan.

"Did you ever hear from Larry again?"

"No." I shake my head. "I guess he's officially done with me."

"And you're done with him, right?"

"Yeah." I inhale deeply. "I shouldn't have agreed to go to his family's cabin to begin with. I just didn't want to seem like a bitch since his dad is dying."

"Do you think he was manipulating you?"

I look up at her as we make our way around a bend. "He's a master manipulator. But I'm done. I'd much rather be here with you than at the cabin with him."

Alex stops, placing her hands on my cheeks and kisses me. "Me, too."

We kiss for a while in the woods, and I feel something stir deep within me. I think she feels it, too.

"It's too cold to…" I trail off, hoping she follows my sexual train of thought.

"I don't want to go to our bedroom," she says, kissing a path down my neck. "It would be too obvious."

"The car?"

She pulls back with a smirk. "_Great_ idea."

We walk briskly back to the house, still hand in hand, and as luck would have it, she has the car keys in her coat pocket.

"This is crazy," I comment as Alex crawls on top of me in the back seat.

She snakes a hand into my jeans. "Want me to stop?"

I let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan as her finger finds its way to my clit. "No."

I claw my way under her coat and sweatshirt until I find bare skin, all the while Alex is rubbing me. I reach for her nipple and squeeze it until it forms a tight peak. I want to suck it, but due to our current position, it's impossible. She speeds up the motion on my clit and kisses me deeply. I explode into a frenzied orgasm, and I feel her fingers enter me as I ride it out.

"That was nice," I pant.

"I felt you cum." She kisses my jawline.

"What do you mean?"

"You contracted around my fingers."

That's enough to turn me on again. Using all my strength, I maneuver my body on top of hers and slink down as far as I can by bending my legs in an uncomfortable position. I push her stomach, indicating that she needs to scoot up as I unzip her pants. Alex rests her upper back against the car door, and I shove her pants and purple underwear down as far as they'll go before diving in with my mouth. _She tastes so fucking good_.

Her hands roam into my hair as she holds me in place. I'm able to stick two fingers inside her as my tongue works her clit, and I feel her breaths getting shorter. The danger of getting caught makes me wetter, and I wonder if that's one of the reasons she's dripping wet, too.

It doesn't take long before she cums against my mouth. She pulls me so close that for a few seconds, I can't breathe. Finally, she releases me. I keep my ear on her stomach and can hear her heartbeat slow down. My head is swirling with emotions; this still feels like a dream.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" I ask.

"Hope not."

I lift my head. "Should we go inside?"

"Probably." She smiles. "Can't say that I've ever done that."

"Really?"

We put ourselves back together as best as we can. Alex brushes my hair with her fingers, and I do the same for her.

"Have _you_?" she asks.

"Had sex in a car?" I open the door and nearly spill out. "Once in high school. It was terrible. The guy jizzed all over himself before we did anything."

She gets out right behind me. "I hope it was his car."

I grin. "His parents'."

"There you two are," Lorna says, coming out the back door. "Did you have to run an errand?"

Alex shoves her hands in her back pockets. "No, Piper just needed to get her hat out of the car."

I play along, holding up my wool hat. "Here it is."

"Oh, well, we're about to start a game of Monopoly."

"I love Monopoly," I respond.

Alex takes my hand as we follow her inside. "Get ready for some stiff competition."


	10. Chapter 10

Another Mature chapter ahead.

* * *

We spend the afternoon playing board games, poker and just lounging around. I haven't felt this relaxed in months, and I decide to make an effort to get off the grid more often to unwind and detach from the hustle and bustle of my life.

After an intense game of Scrabble where Alex beat me by two points with the word _quixotic_, I get up and stretch. "I've been putting it off all day, but I really need to check my work e-mail. Do you know if this place has wi-fi?"

"Yeah, the code is on the bulletin board next to the fridge," Poussey offers.

"I should probably do the same." It's Alex's turn to stretch, revealing a little of her flat stomach.

My eyes are drawn to her bare skin and a wave of heat rolls through my body. I'm not sure if we should be in the same room to work; I'm likely to be distracted by her mere presence.

"I'll work in the sunroom." I pull my iPad out of my bag. "Unless you prefer that space?"

She grabs her tablet. "We can both work in there."

I scratch my head. "Right."

There's a room on the North side of the house that has a wall of windows, making it the coldest spot in the house, but it's also the quietest. I noticed two space heaters in the sunroom this morning, so I know it can be warmer if I turn those on. The patio furniture looks like it was taken right off the set of _The Golden Girls_, but there's a glass-topped table in the corner that will do just fine for the hour of work I need to put in. It's either working in here or in the bedroom, and I've never been a fan of working where I sleep.

"I really do need to get some stuff done," I announce as I sit at the table.

She gives me a suspicious look. "So do I."

"It's just that…"

She glances at me expectantly, so I continue. "We don't seem to be able to keep our hands off each other when we're alone."

A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Are you suggesting I lack self-control?"

"Not just _you_." I shrug. "I have a problem with it, too."

"Good to know." Her grin morphs into a smirk.

"I'm going to set a timer for an hour, and during that time, no touching." I open the clock app on my phone. "No suggestive looks either."

"Done and done." Alex positions both space heaters in our direction, and then sits next to me.

I open my Inbox to find 137 new e-mails and groan at the amount of time it'll take me to read through each of them. My first task is to delete the spam and advertisements. That eliminates 18 of them. Next, I sort by sender to tackle the ones from my boss, followed by e-mails from our two staff writers. So far, my concentration has been fully intact, and if I can just _not_ focus on the way Alex smells like sweet cream and honey, I'll be fine.

But she smells so fucking good. She looks good, too. Her hair is wavy, her lips are glossed, and all her attention is focused on the messages she's reading. I expected her to steal a glance or two, but even after 30 minutes, she seems far too engrossed in work to concern herself with me. Of course, that makes me want to gain her attention even more. It was my idea to set a timer and create the rules, but how can I concentrate on work when Alex is sitting next to me?

She raises her glasses to the top of her head and types a message. Her eyes are enhanced by the green accents in the room, and I want them on me, not on her screen. I clear my throat, but she still doesn't look my way. I let out a soft sigh, and she looks up.

"Need some water?" she asks.

I cup the back of my neck, rubbing the sore tendons. "No."

She returns her attention to the computer.

It takes all my willpower to answer seven e-mails and tag ten more for follow up tomorrow. There's no way I can be productive when all I really want to do is kiss the living shit out of Alex right now. I lean back and rock on the rear legs of the chair, bouncing a little to get her attention.

"Is this how you process?" She's still focused on her tablet.

"What do you mean?"

"Rocking in the chair like that. Are you processing stuff about work?"

"No."

She sits back, pulling her glasses back over her eyes. "Then what's going on, Piper?"

"I can't concentrate with you next to me," I respond honestly.

"Ok, I'll leave." She stands, but before she grabs her tablet, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her down towards me.

I kiss her fervently and can tell by the smile I feel surfacing on her face that she's surprised by my move but also pleased with herself.

She circles her arms around my shoulders. "You're the one who established the rules."

"I should've known better." My lips travel across her jawline. "I'm going to guess that for the foreseeable future, if we're in a private space, I'm going to want to touch you…" I run my fingers through her hair. "And kiss you."

She smirks. "Who's the one lacking self-control?"

I don't respond; rather, I kiss her again and move towards the palm-printed sofa. I tug her down until I'm on top of her, searching for contact with her most sensitive spot. I reach one hand down to unbutton her pants and snake a hand in her underwear. When I find her clit, she stretches her neck back, forcing us to lose mouth-to-mouth contact. I won't have that. I move up her body slightly until we're once again face to face and lean down to kiss her while continuing my ministrations on her clit.

Alex places a hand over mine, causing me to press harder on the small bud. She bucks into me, so I speed up the motion until she cums. I stop kissing her so I can watch her face contort and the little vein across her temple become more pronounced. I've never been with someone who experiences an orgasm like Alex. I've also never cum as hard as I do when I'm with her.

She runs a hand down the back of my head. "I'm getting the sense that you like to have sex in conspicuous places."

"That's never been a thing before," I reply. "I guess you bring the naughty out in me."

"Good thing Christmas has passed then," she chuckles. "I'd hate for you to be on Santa's naughty list."

"I'd forgo all Santa's presents if it meant having sex like this all year."

"All year, huh?" She gives me a toothy smile.

I nod.

We lie there for a few more minutes leisurely kissing. I can hear laughter coming from the living room and the faintest sound of music coupled with chirping birds. I close my eyes and bask in the glory of being here, wondering how the stars aligned to make this moment possible.

"Until you attacked me, I was making some headway with my Inbox," Alex states.

"I didn't attack you."

She juts her chin back. "What would you call it then?"

I lift my shoulders. "I was showing you what an effect you have on me."

"Ah." Alex sits up. "Well, thank you for showing rather than telling."

I adjust my shirt and flatten my hair. "You're welcome."

"I really would like to respond to a few more e-mails." She stands, grabbing her tablet. "So I'm going to move to the bedroom to finish up."

I nod. "Good idea."

She kisses me on the forehead before leaving.

* * *

That evening, the five of us pile into the SUV and head to the charming town center. Christmas decorations still adorn the buildings and line Main Street, and it reminds me of a smaller version of Randolph.

"Why didn't we come down here a few days ago?" Lorna asks from the backseat.

"I had no idea this little Christmas village existed," Nicky replies.

Alex parks in a small lot, and we all get out and marvel at the quaint downtown area.

Lorna pouts. "I bet there were carolers and everything."

"Let's come back next year and do it up right," Poussey suggests.

Alex takes my hand and smiles. "I'd be up for that. You?"

"Definitely." I return her smile, but I'm confident mine is even wider.

Although the burger restaurant is crowded, there's one open booth big enough to seat all of us. We order a pitcher of beer and onion rings to start, and I listen to stories about how awful the food was in prison.

"Fridays were the worst," Alex begins, arm over my shoulder. "Most of the food was delivered on Mondays and was already past the expiration date when Red got it, so you can imagine what it tasted like five days later."

"The bologna was the worst," Nicky adds.

"It looked like Mortadella, but it wasn't—the little white spots were mold," Lorna chimes in.

I make a face. "How did you eat that stuff?"

"I never ate the bologna," Alex admits. "I'd eat the runny mashed potatoes and a stale dinner roll before I put that mystery meat in my mouth."

"It sounds disgusting," I reply.

"If you think the bologna was bad, you should've tried the—" Nicky trails off when a man calls my name, interrupting our discussion.

"Piper?"

I turn to see him walking towards our table. "_Larry_?"

He glances around the table, eyes landing on Alex whose arm is still over my shoulders. I try to inconspicuously move it, but she's got long arms and the gesture isn't lost on my ex-boyfriend.

"I see you made it to Vermont," he begins, tightening his jaw. "And made some friends along the way."

"I did…I have…" I swallow hard, trying to erase the sudden dryness in my mouth. "This is Alex." I sit up straighter. "She's the one who offered me a ride."

He bends his knees and shoots back up. "I _knew_ there was something you weren't telling me!"

"Everything I told you was true," I respond. "It's just that…"

"I don't want to hear it!" He shakes his head. "You're going to give me some bullshit lie about how the two of you met a couple days ago. I don't buy it."

"We met a few days ago at LaGuardia," Alex chimes in. "She's telling you the truth."

"So what?" He lets out a nefarious laugh. "You met at the airport, fell madly in love and are now spending the holidays together?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah." Alex raises her shoulders. "I mean, we haven't really discussed the falling in love part yet, but…"

My eyes bolt open. Is she acknowledging that _we're falling in love_? Are we? Is that why this feels so…magical?

He shakes his head and looks away. "Such fucking bullshit."

"Look, Larry." Alex stands. "I'm sorry it didn't work out for Piper to spend one last Christmas with your dad, but please leave her alone. She's done with you."

"Who are you, her fucking guardian?"

"_Larry_," I warn.

"Hey, Jewboy." Nicky nods in his direction. "Alex happens to be Piper's tall, hot, sexually charged, lesbian lover." She stands across from him with a cunning smile. "If you could've heard your ex-girlfriend's orgasm this morning…"

He slaps Nicky across the face, and before I have time to react, Alex punches him square in the jaw.

"_Alex_!" I quickly get to my feet.

One of the waiters rushes over. "What's going on here?"

Alex shakes out her fist, and I immediately grab her hand. "Are you ok?"

"This man assaulted my friend!" Lorna points to Larry.

"It's about to go down in here!" Poussey stands, pounding her fist into her hand. "Come at one of my friends again, muthafucka!"

"Enough!" I yell, slicing my hands through the air. "Larry, you've humiliated me and yourself. Please leave."

"Yeah, get the fuck out," Poussey responds.

The waiter holds Larry's upper arm and drags him to the front door. "Either leave now, or I'll call the police."

"Fuck you all!" He storms out of the restaurant, holding a hand over his jaw.

"_What the hell_?" My head is spinning as I glance at the four women who are now all standing outside of the booth poised to fight.

"That'll teach him to mess with a bunch of ex-cons," Lorna states in her best Scarface voice.

Nicky and Poussey start laughing, patting each other on the back, and then Alex joins in but not as robustly as the others.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. "What just happened?"

"We defended your honor, Chapman." Nicky tosses her arm over my shoulders. "Nobody fucks with one of us."

A part of me is grateful for such sentiment, but the other part of me wonders what they would've done to Larry if we weren't in a public place.

They all scoot back into the booth except Alex.

"You ok?" she whispers.

"I…" I shake my head. "I don't know what I am."

"Sorry about that," she offers.

I glance at the door to make sure Larry's gone and slowly come to my senses after a whirlwind of a brawl. Then I examine Alex's hand and rub her reddened knuckles. "You punched him."

"After he slapped Nicky."

I blink a few times. "Right. I just…no one has ever defended me like that."

"Can we place our order or what?" Nicky calls to the waiter as if nothing happened. "I'm dying to get my mouth around this Mexi-burger."

Alex pulls me to the side. "Are you upset with me?"

"No, I…" I have never been so at a loss for words. "I'm not upset with you; I just can't believe what happened."

"Your ex is a dick," she responds. "My friends and I don't respond well to dicks."

It's the first time I smile.

"And I'm not going to stand idly by while someone calls you a liar," she finishes.

I kiss her bruised hand. "Thank you."

"I'm not usually violent." She rubs my cheek. "You sure you're ok?"

I nod. "It's just going to take me a while to process this whole thing."

She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. "We can get out of here if you want."

"No." I place a hand on her chest. "Larry's gone. Let's eat dinner, and then go back to the cabin."

Alex kisses me. "Ok."

I'm left wondering if this was what prison was like—a fight breaks out, people take sides, the fight is over, and everyone goes about their day as if nothing ever happened. I can't imagine a world like that, but I'm thankful these women were on my side.

"Piper, what's your order?" Nicky asks, startling me from my musings.

"Oh, I'll have the burger with the special sauce and cheddar cheese." I hand the waiter my menu.

"I can't believe _that_ was Larry," Poussey chimes in. "He's almost shorter than me!"

"You definitely classed up with this one." Nicky juts her chin towards Alex.

"I'm so sorry he hit you," I say.

"Don't worry about it." She waves me off. "If I had a nickel for every time I got slapped…"

"You'd be a rich woman," Lorna finishes for her. "I didn't think he was bad looking. I mean, he's no Christopher, but…"

Nicky rolls her eyes as we all listen to another presumably fictional story about Christopher. As Lorna tells her tale, Alex places her hand on my leg under the table and looks at me with an apologetic expression.

"It's ok," I mouth, flashing a warmer smile than my earlier one. I take her hand under the table, linking our fingers together.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my seat being given to Alex on the flight from LaGuardia to Burlington would be the best thing that ever happened to me. If she hadn't "stolen" my seat and the flight hadn't been cancelled, I probably would have never met the woman next to me who seems more amazing every minute.

"Can we get back to the falling in love part?" I ask with a grin.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to each of you who has left a review! I still can't believe how well a Christmas story went over in June. Technically, this is the end of the story, but I've written an Epilogue that I will post tomorrow. Happy summer, kids!


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

"Did you remember the marshmallows?" Alex asks, ducking into the driver's seat.

"And the graham crackers." I nod, fastening my seatbelt. "I packed everything."

"Is that a dig at me for not helping?" Her smile betrays the grievance.

"No." I bend down to grab my phone out of my purse. "I know you've had a busy week."

"And let's be honest…" Her smile morphs into a perceptive smirk. "We both know you would've repacked whatever I packed to begin with."

"I've tried to show you my efficient packing system, but you refuse to learn." I plug my phone into the car speaker and hit _play_ on the Christmas music.

"That's because you're so good at it." She squeezes my thigh. "Thank you for packing _everything_."

I smile up at her. "You're welcome."

I was surprised Alex suggested driving to St. George after the fiasco we went through last year, but she seems to be fond of traditions. She paid close attention to the weather report all week, and when she was sure there were no storms headed to the Northeast over the Christmas holiday, she booked a rental car and mapped out the drive.

Alex maneuvers onto the freeway with a nostalgic grin. "Feels like yesterday."

"Sometimes it does, and other times it seems like a lifetime ago."

She glances at me. "Which would you rather?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "If we'd known each other for years, I'd know everything there is to know about you."

"You would've also had to deal with my time in prison."

"True." I rest my head on the headrest and blink a few times, trying to wrap my head around what would've happened if we were a couple when Alex was at Litchfield.

"I wouldn't have expected you to stay with me," she tosses out there. "Seven years is a long time."

I swivel my head. "I would have."

"You think so?" She smiles.

I nod, grabbing her hand. "No matter the circumstances, I can't imagine not being with you."

"Even though I can't pack worth a damn?"

My smile grows. "Yes, even though you can't pack worth a damn."

We spend the rest of the drive talking about the past and the present, and unlike last year, there's no icy conditions or road closures to deal with. What took us six hours of treacherous driving has taken three this time, and we arrive in the town of Randolph giddy with the prospect of enjoying the Christmas village without the stress of getting to Vermont as soon as possible. We also have the benefit of knowing each other for a full year.

_Knowing each other_ is an understatement. Alex and I didn't miss a beat from last Christmas to this one. When we returned to New York after our stay at the cabin in Vermont, we talked on the phone every day, texted multiple times a day and saw each other at least once a week. The sleepovers turned into multi-night stays, and we couldn't get enough of each other. When Alex went on business trips, I missed her excessively, which is one of the reasons why we moved in together two months ago. My place was too small for both of us and hers was too far from Midtown where I work, so we decided to rent a two-bedroom brownstone in Lenox Hill.

"Should we leave the groceries in the car?" I grab my suitcase out of the backseat.

"We won't need them tonight, so yeah."

We walk into the Randolph Inn and the smell of hotel linens and pine needles assaults my senses. I take in a deep breath and smile, remembering our last stay with fondness and thankful we're beyond that stage. To be fair, the anticipation of what might happen between us a year ago was scintillating, but I'd take where we are now any day.

Unbeknownst to me, Alex requested the same room we stayed in last Christmas, and when she opens the door, I immediately look in the bathroom, recalling the first time we had sex. While it was _good_, it was clumsy and frantic. The second round in bed was better, but sex a year ago is _nothing_ compared to the mind-blowing sex we have now. We've had the luxury of time, knowing each other's bodies so intimately I could close my eyes, spin around 10 times and if I placed a finger on her body, I'd know precisely which part of Alex I was touching.

"Should we revisit bathtub sex?" I ask.

"God, no." She rolls her bag into the living room. "I thought you were over that fantasy?"

I follow her to the bedroom, placing my bag on a rack. "You know how much I love having sex in the water."

"I was hoping the whole _bath_ sex was a phase." She opens the curtains, revealing the lovely town covered in snow and Christmas lights. "I'm down with occasional shower sex, but fucking in the tub is too restrictive."

I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on her shoulder. "We have to do it just once...for old time's sake."

"I love that you still say, 'do it'," she chuckles.

"Would you rather I say _fuck_?" I enunciate the word.

She raises one eyebrow suggestively. "Yes."

"Then let's _fuck_ in the bathtub…just once."

She twists her head, kissing me on my temple. "When you put it that way..."

After a brief but hot makeout session that involves the removal of my sweater, we stroll along the well-lit street, stopping along the way to hear the children's choir perform a few Christmas songs. One thing I've always appreciated about Alex is when we're near each other, she touches me. Sometimes it's holding my hand and other times it's an arm around my shoulders or waist. I still get a tingly feeling when she _claims_ me.

We have dinner at La Fleur's, and I can't stop smiling. We order oysters and another appetizer that neither of us remembers being on the menu last year. Alex has gotten me into Bourbon, so we each order an Old Fashioned before our meal and split a bottle of Pinot Noir with dinner. In the entirety of our relationship, we've never lacked in the conversation department. Tonight's dinner is no different. Alex tells me about the restaurant she's opening next week, and I fill her in on the hiring process for a new writer on my team.

After dinner, we take our time walking down the street and pop into a few stores. We buy a Randolph Christmas ornament, and I vow to hang it on our tree when we go home even though Christmas will have passed. She buys a bottle of wine from the Finger Lakes region, and I purchase local honey that the salesclerk swears is the best clover honey in New England.

We stop off for a glass of Madeira at the wine bar, and then head back to the hotel, both feeling a little buzzed and completely satisfied.

I turn on my instrumental Christmas playlist, and Alex meets me in the middle of the room. Something shifts in her eyes, and I know what she's thinking. We leisurely undress each other and make slow, tender love in one of the beds. I don't remember ever going at this crawl of a pace, but it heightens my senses; every touch burns my skin in the best way.

We fall asleep after only one deliciously satisfying round of sex, but after the busy week we've both had, it comes as no surprise.

* * *

The next morning I convince Alex to have bathtub sex, and while it's sloppy and awkward, she's still able to make me cum, though she claims she tweaked her back. _(Me: "Why didn't you stop if your back was hurting?" Her: "I'd have to be literally dying to stop fucking you when you're right at the point of cumming._") I promise to give her a massage later that night, and she tells me she's holding me to it.

We drive two hours to the cabin and are greeted by the same guests from last year minus Sylvie, but with the addition of Brooke, Poussey's new girlfriend. Lorna can't contain her excitement even though I just saw her two weeks ago. Nicky is her usual crass self, but I love her for it. Poussey still gives the best hugs. The five of us hang out as often as possible in New York, but it's rare for all of us to gather at the same time.

While Lorna and I unpack the groceries, Alex peeks into the refrigerator to make sure Nicky bought the items she'll need to make a more traditional Christmas meal. Lorna complained that we should have the same meal this year as last, but Alex insisted that it be a little more holiday focused. I'll admit that I had some influence into changing the menu this year, but the rest of the women don't need to know that.

"Ah, the room with the sloped ceiling," I comment, storing my luggage off to the side. "I remember it well."

She lifts a brow. "So do I."

After a few quick kisses and reminiscing, we join the others in the living room before heading out to downtown St. George.

This time we're able to appreciate it more since it's Christmas Eve. The biggest treat is watching Lorna soak it all in. She's like a child on Christmas morning, and while I love the holidays, my enthusiasm doesn't hold a candle to hers. Fortunately, we don't run into Larry this year, and I'm holding my breath hoping one of them doesn't bring it up.

After listening to Santa Claus read _The Night Before Christmas_ to the small crowd gathered in the lawn, we head back to the cabin, and Alex and I start prepping the meal while the rest of the gang tells stories in the living room. Poussey makes sure everyone's glass is full, and we raise our glasses in a toast every time a new bottle of wine is opened.

While I've become a much better cook thanks to Alex, she still does the majority of cooking at home. For tonight's meal, we're having Porchetta, wild rice, sweet potato casserole and a roasted vegetable medley. Nicky insisted that we have the same dessert as last year, and that's the only thing Alex agreed to make the same since it's Nicky's birthday cake/dessert.

Alex and I move efficiently around the kitchen, and it's not the first time I'm struck by how that's always been the case. I remember chopping potatoes last year and never missing a beat with what she needed next. I've shared with her before that it's almost weird how in sync we are and she flashed a grin, commenting on how she'd rather be a Backstreet Boy. Needless to say our witty repartee has always been one of my favorite things about how we communicate.

Two hours later, we sit down at the table and enjoy a magnificent meal. Although I have the benefit of Alex's cooking almost every night, this meal is special. It's a time to reflect on what has transpired in a year and the occasion that brought us all together.

"Alright, kids, it's my turn to propose a toast." Nicky stands, clinking her wine glass with a fork. "To spending many Christmases together just like this."

We all shout our cheers, and then Alex stands with a nervous smile on her face.

"Although it's not a toast, I'd like to propose something entirely different." She drops to one knee.

If I were paying attention to the others around me, I'd hear their gasps, but no gasp is greater than mine.

"It's hard to fathom the circumstances under which we met." She lowers her head, and then looks at me again. "But that chance encounter one year ago has led us to this moment."

I cover my mouth.

"I want to spend every holiday with you. Every Christmas, every New Year's, every Memorial Day…you get the idea."

The others laugh.

"But most importantly, I want to spend every _ordinary_ day with you. I want to know what you wore to work on a random Wednesday; what your snack was on the way home from the gym; what you were dreaming when you woke up with smile." She pulls out a diamond ring. "So, Piper, will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

I throw my arms around her neck as a muddled _yes_ escapes my lips. I kiss whatever part of her face my lips land on, and she smiles from ear to ear. In that moment, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was put on this earth to be with Alex, and I intend to make every second count, especially on this Christmas Eve.

THE END

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you once again for the kind comments! Yes, this leaves room for a sequel, and I might pick it up again around the real Christmas holidays, but we'll see where my head is at that point. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the rest of summer.


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